Musul and Marriage
by Insomniazzz
Summary: Seems there's no turning back for Furrball now. a new TV show, a kid and the prospects of matrimony hanging over his head.  How will he juggle it all and not get in trouble at the Bachelor Party?
1. Pilot wings and sushi knives

_Characters intellectual property of Warner Brothers, blah blah blah…_

_Musul and Marriage _– Miercoles Insomniazzz

Koyangi Quest -Episode 00

INT. Inn- Day

A relatively packed restaurant setting. Various patrons mingle at their tables enjoying their food and each other's company. A group of rough-looking dingoes sit in silence at one end of the establishment, watching the other patrons as they swiftly consume their meal. A cricket lands on their table and chirps a few times. The largest of the dingoes glances at the cricket and stands up. The others follow suit and the manager, a short, stocky raccoon runs up to them.

MANAGER

No charge of course, Mr. Bledding. We're just happy to have

your business.

The dingo snorts at the raccoon and shoves a large gold coin into the manager's paws before the group exits the inn, a bit hastily.

MANAGER

Thank you, Mr. Bledding!

Clear on the other side of the restaurant, a blue cat, dining alone, snaps a chopstick over his soba.

Exaggerated, boisterous laughter fills the inn as a squad of unsavory canines enters the restaurant. The manager is visibly shaken as he rushes to help his busboy clean a table. The disheveled wolf-like creature at the head of the group raises his paw.

EMBEZZLER

That won't be necessary. Your food's terrible.

We're only here for your donations.

MANAGER

But I just paid the dingoes today! Just now!

EMBEZZLER

Do we look like dingoes to you?

A coyote in the group produces a huge mallet and flattens the table the busboy is cleaning, crushing the young ferret's hand in the process. The manager rushes to his employee, fearing his lie about the dingoes may have provoked the attack. The other patrons continue their meals in silence, as if this were routine. All, but the blue cat in the corner. He snaps his remaining chopstick, staring a hole in the coyote. A couple members notice this and wander over to his table.

CANNON FODDER #1

Hey kitty. Gotta problem with us?

CANNON FODDER #2

Watch out, Joshi. 'E looks like a mean ol' cat.

What happened to your ear, pussy?

CANNON FODDER #1

Yeah! And what's with the bandage?

Life's been pretty hard for ya, hasn't it?

The blue cat says nothing, but grabs another pair of chopsticks from the next table and continues to eat his noodles. The others are offended at this to say the least.

CANNON FODDER #1

It's about to get a lot harder if you don't answer us!

The cat puts down his chopsticks and tosses a few coins at the manager. Rising to his feet, he stretches slowly, cracking his knuckles and neck bones loudly.

EXT. Inn- cont.

Cannon Fodder #1 flies out the door, landing in the dirt. Cannon Fodder #2 soon follows, landing on his partner. Suddenly, the cat appears in the threshold of the inn, finally revealed indeed as Furrball. His glamour shot is prematurely ruined by the remainder of the gang filing out behind him.

Taking a knee outside, Furrball sizes up the competition. One on six. The cat smiles, apparently liking those odds. Retracting his claws, Furrball initiates the fight scene which inevitably ends in him pouncing the wolf, knocking him out and swiping his wallet. Tossing the wallet to the manager, the cat walks off, down the road, disappearing over the horizon.

. . . . . . . . .

Life back in the spotlight.

Bittersweet at best. Putting the time in the studio was definitely tougher than Furrball remembered. Of course, this was his first time being the principle character of an entire series. He hadn't been too crazy about the content, either. Studio execs had said something to the effect of Usagi Yojimbo meets _Desperado_. There was no originality left anymore. None that sells, anyway.

Furrball sighed as he got off the bus. None of that mattered, actually. He wasn't doing the show because he liked it. It was a necessary evil. The cat knew nothing about having parents except he knew that if **he **was going to be a decent parent, he'd have to make sacrifices.

Two blocks from his home, Furrball started wondering about "normal problems" for once. He'd just finished shooting the pilot episode, but what if it didn't take? How was he supposed to support his household? His skill sets were limited and references miniscule. He'd overheard the teamsters talking on the set earlier that day. Of the 98 pilots shot last season only four made it to the first season and only one actually made it to the end of the season before it was canceled.

Furrball gritted his teeth as he stepped onto his own street. He **had** to make it. There was no question about that. He would, too. Wouldn't he?

_Papa!_

Furrball's eyes raced around before he noticed a streak to his right. Bracing himself, he caught the pint-sized ninja just in time to prevent himself from being decapitated. Furrball grinned wide, cradling young Sparkz in his arms. He wasn't much in stature himself, and could easily be mistaken for the young cat's older brother, rather than adopted father. Any other parent might have discouraged Sparkz's violent playfulness, but Furrball understood. Most observers will think cats are playing, when they're actually sharpening their hunting and basic survival skills. Ferals, especially.

_Hiya kiddo! I missed you today._

It felt so refreshing to be able to speak his native language with someone other than an antagonizing freak, who actually responded back in Catonese.

_She's upset now. A little._

Furrball smiled. He was a decent teacher after all. Though Sparkz's syntax was far from perfect, at least he wasn't speaking backwards anymore.

_Yeah? Let's go see her then, okay?_

_ Yep!_

Furrball let his young charge down and the two of them raced for their townhouse. Fifi was sitting at the coffee table, jotting down some notes. Sparkz gave her a quick hug and escaped into his room. Furrball approached cautiously, unsure of what to expect. Fifi's face was calm, but her eyes told a different story.

"Welcome home," she announced, putting down her pencil. Furrball smiled and took a seat next to her, his eyes inquiring about her mood.

"That truant officer came by again today."

The feline's ears flattened at these words.

"He's not r-r-ready yet."

"I know, I know. But he said that there would be other cats in the ESL classes. Things have changed since we were in school, ya know."

"The overall p-p-purpose hasn't, though. They'll t-t-teach him just enough to c-c-control him."

Fifi looked at Furrball, but said nothing. She tried to turn her attention back to her notes, scribbling nonsense into her pad. He reached across the table, stopping just shy of her paw. Fifi sighed, looking at his paw. Looking up into his dark eyes, her frown dissipated and she accepted his hand, squeezing it gently.

"J-just give h-him…"

Fifi hushed the cat, placing her finger on his lips. He smiled, kissing it gently before standing up. She rose to her feet as well and they walked over to Sparkz's room. They could hear him snore. The kitten spent the majority of the day drifting in and out of sleep; force of habit from street life. It was going to be difficult to wean him into a diurnal cycle. Furrball grimaced at the thought of wanting to "civilize" his young charge. There were so many more steps they'd have to take before Sparkz could lead a normal life. He felt Fifi stroke his back empathetically. He was glad to have her with him. And yet she'd never had to…

Furrball shook his head. That was the old him. He wasn't bitter anymore. He wasn't angry at everyone. It no longer served him to harbor ill feelings or embrace loneliness as his only companion.

"You'd better get started on dinner."

The cat blinked, turning to his girlfriend.

"It's Friday. Your turn, silly," Fifi smirked, brushing her tail across his shirt. Furrball looked at the door to the kitchen, gulping. Cooking had never been his forte. Needless to say he was relieved to find a cuttlefish swimming in a cooler on the kitchen floor. He turned to thank Fifi, but she was already out of sight. Furrball grabbed a couple of knives, the glint of his teeth reflecting on the blades. This was one of his specialties. Grinning as he began sharpening the knives, the feline surveyed his prey. Preparing sashimi wasn't technically cooking.

"I'm going out for wasabi," he heard Fifi call as the front door opened. A bead of sweat inched across his brow as he prepared to make the first cut.

_Tonight. Perfect dinner. Perfect atmosphere. Perfect time._

Furrball was almost surprised by his own sentiments. Waiting until the verdict on the pilot was out was a safer move. More considerate.

_Love's about the chances you take_, he reminded himself. It was better to be impractical. That would make it all the more sweeter in the end. Invigorated, Furrball turned his attention to his immediate concern, swimming around in the cooler.

"How in the world did you get so great at making Sashimi?"

Furrball grinned at Fifi as he dipped another piece in the wasabi rolling it gently. He offered it to Fifi who reluctantly accepted, not being as huge a fan of the green condiment as him.

"Ch-chew it s-s-slowly, but keep moving it around," he advised. "The p-p-pain is only t-temporary."

Fifi smiled at this before her sinuses started clearing at an alarming rate. The cat noticed this and softly batted her paw away before she could grab a drink of water.

"F-fear only makes p-pain h-harder to sw-swallow."

Her initial frown melted as she willfully relaxed her facial muscles which gradually resulted in a smile as she swallowed.

_Fifi._

Furrball shuddered, relishing the feeling he got from just her name alone. The feeling was comparable to dipping one's toe in a pool of distress, allowing the resulting ripples to wash all worries away.

_Fifi._

The cat grinned ear to ear at the fact that the result was exactly the same as-

"What are you thinking about over there?" Fifi inquired.

"You," he answered immediately before he had a chance to lie.

"…"

"…"

No adverse consequences to the truth this time. A cat could get used to this.

_I smell fishies!_

All eyes turned to the doorway.

"Well, look who's up," Fifi announced, walking over to Sparkz. Furrball tried to mask his frustration, having just missed the segway to popping the-

_Papa?_

He immediately straightened up, flashing a smile at his young charge.

_Have a seat, kiddo. Dig in!_

Young Sparkz's innate ability to read mixed signals was fortunately dulled by his love for fish and he sprinted to the table next to his pops.

-End Part 1-

_Kinda taking my time on this one for various reasons… Just don't wanna rush it this time around. Never posted an in-progress chapter before. Thought it might be a nice change of pace for once. _


	2. 2  Eye Glasses

2. Eye Glasses

0545 hours outside set 4B on lot 17. A ghastly wind chilled the blue cat to the bone as he joined the ranks of his fellow actors waiting outside the studio. He could tell by the lack of expressions that despite him being the last to arrive, he was still too early for a decision to have been made.

Because of the nature of the show, he was the only real regular, so most of the actors were temps or tweeners, just supplementing their income or hoping to strike a chord with the directors to get a more permanent role. Thus the wait was a similar experience to standing in a stationary subway car. The more company you had, the lonelier you felt. No small talk, hushed chatter, not even the sound of texting. Just the occasional sound of the unwelcome blasts of wind.

No one dignified the sun with so much as a nod as it emerged to join in on the wait. Might have been safe to say that no one even noticed it was even there. As the knob turned, Furrball cringed, dreading the inevitable battle royale that would soon initiate.

"Everybody please settle down," the casting director ordered through a bullhorn, standing atop the studio. "We'll be needing the manager from the inn last episode and the leader of the dingoes. Those are my only guaranteed slots for now."

The crowd's silence was broken by a barrage of incoherent swearing.

"Okay, settle down. Settle down!" the bullhorn made an annoying feedback noise which proved more effective than the shouts. "I've got 19 male roles and 12 female roles for today's shooting. Target species today will be six big cats and four turtles. Good luck and make a hole, Let those two along with our star in."

Furrball felt a hint of guilt as he made his way to the studio door, feeling all eyes on him. He imagined many present had been lined up outside this and many other studios for months, hoping to land a break while he was just handed a starring role the day he asked for it. The balance of fairness… it just never seemed even.

"Why the hell didn't you use the back entrance?" Surprisingly, a step up from Sylvester's standard greeting, which was culminated with a barrage of nonsensical insults or self-promotion. "We can't afford some jealous hack to do s-s-s-something dras-s-s-s-tic to you on your way to work.

Furrball didn't dignify this with a response, striding past the older cat to the coffee maker. Sylvester had volunteered to assist with the show until a network bought at least a season. His concern was more for himself than Furrball, or so the blue cat suspected. He rubbed his jaw as he poured himself a cup. Sylvester seemed oblivious to the significance of the gesture. Downing the coffee in a single gulp, Furrball made his way to the airbrushing room.

"So basically, long story short, yeah we'll buy the first season. 12 episodes; but only on one condition," the PD turned around in his chair, facing the window. He had a fine view of …streets. Furrball stood patiently waiting for the stipulations, knowing full well that the dramatic pause was for the man to feel that he possessed more power than he really did.

"You're to meet with a head shrinker," the PD announced suddenly, causing Furrball to look up. "You'll need to convince us that you're mentally stable enough to take the stress of a starring role in a serial."

Furrball blinked a few times, trying to let the news seep in. The PD turned his chair around, revealing a business card. The cat reluctantly took it from the man's hand and studied it. M-ar-y M-elo-die?

_Mellow Die?_

"Recognize her name?" The PD grinned through his capped teeth. "You went to school together, so you should. She's really looking forward to seeing you again. Anyways, I've scheduled you for an appointment at noon today, so get going. Her office is on the 13th floor. Tenth door on your right. Can't miss it."

Furrball looked back at the business card, struggling to read it correctly so he'd have a better idea of who the PD was talking about.

"Go on," the PD hit a buzzer, causing the door to open. "Shoo! Don't wanna be late, do ya?"

Furrball stopped a few steps shy of the door. He recognized the letters on the door as the same as the letters on the business card. Glancing at his watch he found he had four minutes to spare. His reading disability was starting to become a real nuisance. Immediately, his thoughts turned to his young charge at home. Perhaps he also had a disability. Some odd mutation of dyslexia, maybe? It was possible, but Catonese is without a writing system which would make it something else entirely. But what caused him to screw up his word order? He'd never heard of that in a mother tongue before.

The cat was so deeply lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the door open right before him.

"You know, they told me you were comin' and sure as you're standin' there I **still** can't believe it!"

Furrball blinked his eyes into focus and fought against his instinct to make an exaggerated shocked expression. He actually had forgotten about Mary over the years, despite their brief, albeit meaningful history. Humans aged differently, he surmised, thinking back to Montana Max. The only physical feature he recognized about Mary was her yellow ribbon. The rest of her was… grown up. As the cat's eyes met the doctor's, a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

Furrball followed Dr. Melodie into her office. It wasn't much, just a small room with a few full bookcases and a huge couch. On the west wall, he could see a number of diplomas and certificates. He started to tense up until he saw a great deal of photographs and cells from their old serial on the adjacent wall, a few even featuring him. Quite a few, actually.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the couch so we can get started, eh?"

Furrball turned his attention back to Dr. Melodie. She was sitting on an easy chair, holding a legal pad. He took a breath and relented, plopping down on the coach, as he'd seen others do on TV in Professor Fudd's Clichés 201 class back in the day.

"If you still don't feel comfortable speaking English, I took five years of Catonese in college," Mary explained.

Furrball raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It was interesting! Anyways, we're not here to talk about me. This'll be the first of five sessions to satisfy your company's requirements for a psychological evaluation. Do you understand?"

_I understand they didn't give a damn about me until after all the damage was done._

"How does that make you feel? Do you resent feeling used?"

Furrball started to sweat as his eye dilated. Apparently her Catonese _was_ on the level.

_C-can you speak it, too?_

Dr. Melodie smiled sadly, shaking her head. "Can't produce the right amount of tones for it, even after five years of trying. That used to screw up my self-esteem when I was an undergrad. Would you mind tell me how you've coped with your struggles with English over the years? "

…

The novelty of turning the key to unlock his very own door never wore off for Furrball. Sometimes he indulged his id, locking and unlocking it many times like a kid playing with a light switch. As the feline opened his front door, a sense of longing overcame him. His first session had been mentally vexing; a definite change of stress from his typical worries. He'd delved into transitioning from life on the street to domesticating himself and had a number of new ideas and concepts he hadn't previously considered floating around in his head, none of which were of much comfort.

The blue cat hated the fact that he'd made his adoptee a latchkey kitten so quickly, but options were limited until the check cleared. Besides, Furrball knew in his heart for all the things Sparkz embodied, it was his ability to fend for himself that had kept him alive all this time. It was this exact thought at the exact time he stepped into the den that caused Furrball to be caught unawares by the damage he witnessed.

Had the dwelling been more lavishly furnished, Furrball might have blown a gasket. Shredded drapes lay strewn out across the room. Cotton and dander made what was left of the carpet seem like it been in a blizzard. The couch was damaged beyond repair with multiple claw marks ranging from superficial to excessively deep. If it had been someone else's sofa, Furrball may have been impressed at the fact that one-clawed creature was able to do all this destruction. Rounding the corner, the blue cat found the young culprit shivering in a ball on the floor. Furrball knelt next to Sparkz, a wave of horrible memories flooding his mind. He, himself had done something similar when he was around that age to a family that had tried to "adopt" him.

_Frustrated?_

Sparkz opened his eyes and glanced up for a brief moment, refusing to look Furrball in the eye. Furrball knew all words would be perceived as hollow, sarcastic or condescending. Disappearing into his bedroom, Furrball returned with his violin case. A small voice in the back of his head advised him against taking the violin out. Sparkz was curled up in a corner in the fetal position sobbing inaudibly. The scene was almost too much for Furrball. Bad déjà vu. He wordlessly plopped down next to the kitten. As he contemplated his next move, the cat had an epiphany. The missing part of his ear… it was- …No, he wouldn't be selfish at this time. He should be focused on Sparkz.

Shaking his head, Furrball braced himself just before stroking the distraught one's head. Just as he had anticipated, the smaller feline sprung to life, sinking his needle-sharp claws into… nothing, as Furrball caught his wrist just in time. Sparkz recoiled, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, awaiting the retaliation. It never came.

_Wae an deryeosseo__?_

Furrball cocked his head, clearly confused.

_Me hit! Fast! Now me hit!_

Sparkz was in somewhat of a trance.

_Fast! Go, go go go go go go!_

He banged the ground with every word. Furrball had to physically restrain him before he broke a bone. Thus began the struggle. As strong as Sparkz was for his age, however, he would prove no real match for his adoptive father. Furrball managed to pin the kitten to the floor until he felt the young one's energy give out.

_Why? Why you not hit?_

Furrball let go of him and sat up. He pointed to his ear.

_Nobody knows how I got this. Even I forgot about it for the longest time._

Sparkz collected himself, sitting up, his curiosity piqued.

_It was the first time I stayed with a family in a house when I was young. Younger than you, probably. The first night I was there, I had a bad dream. When I woke up, everything around me was completely trashed. I guess they call that sleep walking or night terrors or both, maybe._

Sparkz finally managed to look at Furrball's face, but avoided his eyes.

_They kicked me out right then and there. I remember feeling sick to my stomach. I felt so guilty. I hated myself so much. So anyways, I was walking on the street and I came across this big piece of broken glass. _

Sparkz's eyes widened and Furrball swallowed hard before continuing.

_I kept thinking… I don't deserve another shot, ya know? I just don't deserve it. So I picked up the glass._

The front door rumbled a bit and opened. Fifi entered the den to find the cats sitting against the wall. Overriding her instinct to overreact, she put her trust in the blue cat who held up a finger, motioning for her to wait.

_I did it. I tried to end it all. I tried to put the glass through my eye. But I flinched the first time, and caught my ear. _

Furrball could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn't care. Sparkz noticed it, but said nothing.

_The second time, I waited a few minutes to focus on stabbing straight. But just at the last second, I thought I saw something in that glass. I didn't know what, but it was enough to mess up my aim for the second time. After that, I can't remember anything. I think I woke up in a vet's office or something. _

_What you saw?_

_In the glass? You'll probably just laugh._

_I won't._

_It's corny. I really don't have any visual memory of it._

_What it was?_

_I guess it was like… hope. _

_Hope? What?_

_It's the reason you get up in the morning. It's that little glimpse of something so great that it makes you happy just thinking about it. It's… well, it is what it is. _

_I… see._

_I'm not going to hit you, Sparkz. I never am. I know why you did this. I was you. I can replace a couch. Not a kitten. _

Sparkz's cool exterior snowballed in a blizzard of tears. He allowed Furrball to embrace him and they sat, for a time, rocking back and forth. Fifi cautiously approached as Sparkz drifted off to sleep and carried him to his bedroom. As she closed the door, Furrball was leaning against the wall, a wily expression on his face.

"What?" she mused.

"J-j-just th-thinking about my l-luck, is all," he explained. "Y-you must be the only f-female that wouldn't fr-fr-fr-eak out at the kid who d-destroyed the d-den."

"That couch was old anyways," she answered with a smile. "Didn't really sit well with the décor in the first place, either."

Furrball laugh and kissed Fifi on the cheek.

"L-let's order in t-tonight, ok?"

_End- Part 2_

_Why, oh why hasn't he proposed yet? My apologies for the tasteless pun for the name of this chapter. Everything's funny at 0400 hours. _


	3. Bandaged Belief

3. Bandaged Belief

"…it's just like that... He's scared to death of crossing the line so he stays as far away from it as he can. I mean, at first it was sweet, but these days… … yeah. Ya know? I dunno, thought I made every indication that I was okay with him… … Exactly. Oh Shirley, what am I gonna do with him? … Yeah. I know. … Okay. OK, later! Thanks for calling. Bye."

Fifi hadn't even hung up the phone before a tinge of guilt shot through her spine. It wasn't something she'd planned on discussing with anyone. She hadn't even really thought about it either, but her frustration somehow crept to the surface in the middle of the phone call. It wasn't frustration about his quirks that would drive most others up the walls with prolonged exposure, but rather the way he looked at her. She could feel the eyes of a jungle cat on her every time he turned in her direction. His feelings for her were palpable. But there was that filter, the screen door he used to suppress the emotions from really developing into anything more than a peck on the cheek. It was maddening.

Of course logically, she knew the answer well. It was quite simple, actually. Tell him. Verbally articulating annoyance was the first step in slaying the beast. She had tried in the past, but the opportunity never really presented itself. Why was that?

Koyangi Quest -Episode 02

EXT. Mountain Pass- Dusk

A gentle westerly breeze carries a school of emancipated autumn leaves to yet another location they cannot call home. A blue paw crushes a few of these vagrants, hesitantly at first, but concern for the tree plumage vanishes as fast as the cat realizes what he's smashed.

The leaves were not the only thing the wind has brought to our weather-beaten trotter.

He detects a familiar odor coming from the fork in the road. Eyes narrowing, the cat changes course to follow the scent. Adjusting the hilt of his wakizashi, the traveler makes his way to the top of the hill.

Just as his nose indicated, a group of weary mourners are placing what seem to be bodies in a bonfire. They put in the last body just as the blue cat arrives. A disillusioned, three-tailed fox, TOSHI leaves the circle to greet the new arrival.

TOSHI

No katana. Are you a travelling merchant?

The cat shakes his head once. Walking over to the bonfire, he produces a small vial. The others watch as he unscrews the cap and offers his respects in the form of rice wine. The bonfire gratefully sucks this up.

TOSHI

Thank you, sir. Ever since the army expanded

the western territory, we've been hit more and more

by bandits, highwaymen and soldiers alike!

Furrball turns to leave, wanting to make an exit before the inevitable request of assistance in restoring peace to the region.

TOSHI

Um, sir?

The cat flashes Toshi a menacing glare which slowly dissolves into a defeated sigh. Wasting no time at all. Toshi rolls in for the kill.

TOSHI

It's just that they have scouts

everywhere and even if you

don't join us, they'll attack you on sight

once you leave here…

. . . . . . . . .

Frustration possessed Fifi's hand as she tossed her fountain pen across the room. The ink splattered against the wall in the oddest way. It looked like one of those ink blots the shrinks used to use. She didn't bother to retrieve her pen, writer's block being the cause of her throwing it in the first place. Besides that, her tail was serving as a blanket for a certain one-pawed kitten. The noise of the pen hitting the wall only resulted in him squeezing her bushy tail tighter. Fifi looked down at Sparkz and smiled. She stared at him for a while, studying his face. Furrball had made it clear that she was not to look at him directly when he was conscious. Something about that triggering a challenge of dominance.

For all intents and purposes, he _was_ the expert on the situation, but at the same time, _she_ was the one who had more experience dealing with others. Just because it'd been true for Furrball didn't make it gospel. She suspected that Sparkz had wanted to make a more meaningful connection with her, but she'd always been at somewhat of a distance at her boyfriend's unspoken request.

Fifi noticed things about the kitten she hadn't been privy to before. His fur was shorter and coarser in some places, while it looked like it had a mind of its own in others. She also noticed the lack of animal-produced scrapes and scars that Furrball had. It was as if the young cat's only adversary had been homo-sapiens. The skunk sighed, stroking Sparkz's head. She wondered about their relationships. Sparkz only spoke Catonese, so it was more like he was Furrball's son and Fifi's pet at the same time.

As her eyes shifted focus once more to his face, she noticed he'd awakened, greeting her with a small, but genuine smile. She stopped stroking his head for a moment which negatively affect his expression. Grinning, she scratched him softly behind the ears causing the kitten to purr uncontrollably. Rolling off her tail and sitting up, Sparkz gave Fifi a "What now?" look. She hadn't been expecting this. The routine was usually the kitten going from 0 to 60 in .3 seconds. Seizing the opportunity of temporary tranquility in the kitten, Fifi produced a box from the table. She smirked as Sparkz cocked his head from one side to another, wondering what was inside and if he were somehow involved. It wasn't an invasive curiosity. It was almost subtle.

Carefully opening the small box, Fifi produced a long, silk bandage as white as a dove. The kitten let out a small gasp. He'd have grasped his paws together if he had two. Sparkz offered Fifi his tail, shocked to find her shake her head no. Before he really had time to make heads or tails of this, he felt Fifi take his left arm into hers, an action that would have normally merited an unholy attack. For some reason, however, Sparkz was compliant, more curious than anything else. She placed the end of the bandage near his stub and smiled affectionately.

Trying his level best to hide his limp from a botched stunt at the studio, a habit from the street that he refused to shake, Furrball inched his way up the porch steps, looking up for the first time and stopped. Through the open window, he could see Fifi wrapping a white cloth around his son's wrist. Fearing the kitten had injured himself, Furrball started to rush or the door until he saw the look of elation on Sparkz's face… it was almost alien to him; he'd never seen the kitten so happy. Looking back at Fifi's handiwork, the blue cat put two and two together and was nearly overwhelmed by the significance of the gesture.

A stampede of thoughts rushed through the cat's head. There was even the slightest tinge of jealousy which evaporated when he noticed he'd unconsciously grabbed his own tail. He felt the bandage and tried to think back as far as he could, eventually settling for static in his brain. An inexplicable calmness massaged his soul and Furrball looked up again, delighted. He stood very still, refusing to spoil the moment for the others, but his son's keen eyes spotted him before he could disappear out of sight. Sparkz gave Fifi a humongous hug and pounced out the open window into Furrball's unsuspecting arms. Any other kid would have commenced with chattering excitedly a million words a minute about what just happened and how happy it made him. Sparkz summed it up into two words...

_We family._

Furrball squeezed his young charge tightly and looked up at Fifi. Nodded towards Sparkz. She smirked, got out of her seat and hopped out the window herself, joining in the embrace. The three were frozen in time for the moment and Furrball didn't want to let go.

After dinner, Furrball sprawled on the sofaless cushions as Fifi massaged his ankle. He did his best to simultaneously return the favor, rubbing her shoulders, but in his ecstasy, kept slipping and falling on his back. The cat grinned at the skunk, until he read gloom on her face that she was trying to conceal.

"W-wanna t-talk about it?" he mused, sitting up.

Fifi sighed, dreading those words. It felt like the days when she'd bring back a bad grade and her parents wouldn't address until after dinner at their own leisure.

"Yes and no," she began, taking a deep breath. Furrball should have been the last one it would be difficult to talk to. "You know… it's just… you've gotten over your nomad kick, right?"

Furrball raised an eyebrow and stared into Fifi's eyes until she started to feel uncomfortable and turned away.

"Why do you insist on sleeping on the floor?"

The cat sucked in some air and sat up straight, trying to focus his thoughts. He'd been anticipating the question, but was still somewhat unprepared for it.

"L-let me put it this way…" he began, resisting to urge to avoid her face. "What was the best movie you saw in a theatre?"

Fifi wanted nothing more than to inquire the relevance, but decided to trust the cat in the long run, thinking back. "'Ghost'," she finally answered.

Furrball blinked a couple of times, having never seen the film before. "Right, now what would have h-h-happened if you had tickets, but you saw a p-pirated copy the day before on your computer? Do you think you would have ap-p-preciated it as much in the theatre?"

Furrball immediately looked at Fifi's face for a moment. It obviously wasn't the answer she'd been looking forward to. While she contemplated this, Furrball stealthily rose to his feet, disappearing into the bedroom. When Fifi noticed he was gone, her face sunk. Things were going nowhere, as she'd feared. A moment later, her heart skipped a beat. Furrball emerged from the room, violin in paw, an amorous smirk on his lips.

"Replaced that E str-string," was all he said as he tried to stroll to the back door with his limp. Opening the door, the cat gestured for the skunk. "C'mon," was all he said as he disappeared into the night. Although she obviously wasn't in the mood, something in his voice sparked Fifi's curiosity.

Before she was aware of her actions, she was closing the back door behind her. It was almost pitch-black and she couldn't find her cat anywhere. All of a sudden, her ear twitched as the lowest tone from the instrument clued her into to his location. Spinning around and looking up, Fifi found the cat's silhouette in the light of the full moon as he stood tall on the roof.

Despite the obvious, Fifi still felt blanketed in a thin shroud of mystery as she gazed upon the musician on the roof. Suddenly, the figure disappeared into the night sky. Strain her eye as she may, she still couldn't find him. Before she could move, Fifi felt warm breath on her neck and spun around to find Furrball, a solemn look on his face. His eyes were shut tightly and the very second his bow touched a string, his entire body seemed to be possessed. She imagined she could smell the smoke from the friction on the strings and the vibrations literally shook her to the core. At first, she couldn't even hear the music, he was playing so fast and when her ears finally registered the notes, it sounded almost garbled and nonsensical. Her eyes returned to his face and she was afraid he might chip a tooth, he was concentrating so hard. Finally, his body started to relax and the playing softened and slowed to a sweet melody that completely captivated her soul. It was theatrical; as if he'd finally found what he was looking for. With each crescendo, Fifi could feel her body temperature rising until she could almost foretell what he would play next.

Just before he hit the harmonious climax, the cat stopped, exhausted and lowered his bow. He seemed to be in a trance and hovered a few seconds before falling over. Fifi looked down, alarmed when she noticed, he hadn't completely fallen over. He was down on one knee. Realizing this, the skunk felt a rush of blood go straight to her face. Then she noticed the opened ring box balancing on the edge of Furrball's violin. It caught the moonlight at the perfect angle to glitter like the North Star.

"P-please marry me."

Furrball fancied he could hear a choked up 'yes' just before Fifi embraced him. The cat squeezed back and they disappeared into the darkness together, mutual passions requited.

End- Part 3

_Seems like this chapter has been twelve months comin'. Sorry for the delay. I guess now that the hard part's over, it's time to start having fun with this piece. =)_


	4. Cuántos Años Tienes

4. ¿Cuántos Años Tienes?

As he was led to his seat, Sparkz let his eyes go out of focus. His shirt irritated his back, but he dared not scratch it, lest he reveal any weaknesses in the midst of the unknowns. It wasn't long before he felt the eyeballs leave him and return to the front of the room. All except one pair.

_So you're the new blood, eh?_

Sparkz nodded slightly, but refused to turn around to face the voice. He'd been debriefed by his father about what was expected of him in school and didn't want things to go wrong again because he followed his own rules instead. It wasn't until the bell rang for lunch that the young feline realized there were no more cats in the vicinity. There was a mad dash for the door and Sparkz cocked his head in wonder as his classmates fought tooth and nail to get out of the room and before he could think, he was all alone again. Or so he thought.

_Not hungry?_

Sparkz shook his head, finally turning to face the other feline. Couldn't help but notice the other's lazy eye. Of course, he felt no guilt as he'd felt the cat's eyes boring into his ghost limb ever since he'd arrived.

_What's your name?_ Sparkz recited the word verbatim with an intonation that thoroughly confused the other.

_Call me "Tres"._

_What?_

_ "Tres". You know, 3? Like uno, dos, tres. It's Spanish._

_ Oh. Why?_

Tres grinned wide, as if he had been waiting his whole life to give an explanation.

_'Cuz it only takes me 3 steps to draw blood!_

Much to the feline's dismay, his reason only elicited further confusion from Sparkz, not the awe he was hoping for.

_So you call me "Dos", then? Papa calls me "Sparkz"…_

_ You think you can do it in two? Care to test your theory?_

_ Not unless you try prove yours._

_ Well, I do!_

Tres stepped into Sparkz's range, causing the one-pawed wonder to cut him off immediately. The overconfident cat quickly felt his brow. Flicking the blood drop away, Tres' grin grew larger.

_"Dos" is cool, but I think I like "Sparkz" better._

_ Me as well._

_ Well, good to meet ya._

_ You too._

_Let's get going or only the vegetables will be left._

_ I not hungry._

_ Alright Tarzan. But rule number one is never fight on an empty stomach._

_ Who Tarzan? Rule number one is 'raise your hand'. _

_ Damn, kid, they pulled you fresh off the boat! C'mon. I'll get you acclimated._

Fifi nudged her fiancé. His teeth were chattering so hard, they might chip any second. Never before had the role been reversed for Furrball and he was actually the one waiting for a loved one. It was maddening, exciting and fulfilling at the same time. The cat nodded at the skunk, as she squeezed his bicep reassuringly. Furrball glanced at his watch. 3:11.

"Is it l-l-late?"

"No, you're just a concerned father,"

Furrball turned to face Fifi for a moment. He knew what he was, but this was the first time he'd heard it.

Fifi noticed her hubby's eyebrows start to sag and quickly kissed him on the lips. As she started to move away, she felt the feline's arms around her, pulling her closer. It almost shocked her, an assertion by Furrball, but it was a welcome change. The kiss lasted until the cat could no longer breathe, having little experience in the action, causing him to wheeze a bit as the embrace ended. Fifi tried her best not to laugh. Furrball tried his best not to let her know he noticed. Suddenly the cat's ears' perked.

"Bus?" Fifi mused.

Furrball nodded, his eyes fixated on the street corner. Sure enough, a minute or so later, a short bus rounded the corner, stopping a few feet from the couple. As the driver pulled open the door, Furball noticed a window open and smirked as he braced himself for impact. Sparkz emerged, pouncing straight for his jugular. The older cat caught him just in time, spinning his young charge to the ground as everyone from the stopped drivers to Fifi watched in awe at the routine theatrics of the father and son. Feeling the spotlight on them, Furrball's eyes met Fifi's. As he let the kitten down he turned to Sparkz in a pathetic attempt to scold him.

_Now Sparkz, try using the door next time._

_ No good. Too far! I never make the jump!_

Furrball frowned at Sparkz, for a microsecond and burst into laughter as they began their trek home. Sparkz stopped, causing the adults to look back.

"¡Buenas tardes, mami!" Sparkz spoke fluidly, adding a little bow, showing no indication that he'd been practicing all the while on the bus.

Fifi and Furrball looked at each other, a bit stunned by the sound of his voice.

"¡Ah, Sparxito! ¡Buenas tardes! ¿Cómo era la escuela?"

"Bien, bien…no problema."

At this, Furrball nearly lost it.

"Wa-wa-wait! Hold on a s-s-second! W-w-we send the b-boy to school for En-english and n-now th-th-is!"

Fifi gave Furrball sly look as they continued walking, Sparkz in the middle. "_You_ don't speak Spanish," she began, flicking her hair out of her face. "_I_ don't speak Catonese."

Furrball cocked his head. A fair trade, perhaps. Still…

_How did you learn Spanish?_

_ Tres from school taught. He from Long Beach. A pet, too._

_ I see._

_ Papa, what "pet"?_

_ It means his "parents" are humans. It's really common around here. _

_ So what I?_

Furrball scooped his boy up.

_You're my son. No matter what. Okay?_

_ Okay, papa._

Furrball noticed a look in Fifi that filled him with shame for a second.

"H-he's learn-ning f-from a c-ca- classm-mate. A p-pet named "T-tr-tres."

Fifi looked down, starting to twirl her hair.

"You can t-teach me Sp-Spanish… I c-can t-teach you Catonese, I th-think."

Fifi looked at Furrball, causing him to look down now.

"My Spanish is pretty basic. It's just similar to French and English, so I can pick it up."

"C-c-catonese is the l-l-language of our s-s-souls. You already own m-mine, so you're halfway th-there."

Fifi walked ahead to the front door, trying (and failing) to hide the wide grin on her face. Sparkz's smirk met Furrball's as they nodded at each other knowingly.

_Ya know, it's great you're here, Sparkz. Unlike those mutts we don't need no army to take charge, ya know?_

_ Charge of what?_

_ Immigrants…you'd think it was the same everywhere, but it really isn't._

_ Charge of what?_

_ It's just a figure of speech, dude. Basically we don't need them calling all the shots everywhere we go having to wait for them to finish or whatever before we do anything._

_ There more of them._

_ Of course there are! But you kick the alpha's ass and show them you're not afraid to throw down, then they respect you. Then they stay away. _

_ They stay away now._

_ No, we stay away from them! There's a difference. Look, even the numbers game shows the basic prejudice. They think dogs is smarter than cats. Why else would there only be you and me in this class, filled with dogs? People think we're stupid._

_ We not stupid. _

_ We gotta prove it, then. By taking over this damned school._

_ Oh. _

"Yo, Milo, shut the hell up and sit down, a'ight?"

"How many times I gotta tell you not to call me that, esse?"

"Alright class, settle down, settle down. Take your seats, won't you?"

"Yo, Mr. Wiever!"

"Yes, Dutch?"

"I think you gotta send Milo to the counselor's office,"

"Why is that, Dutch?"  
"Because he just said he wanted to die."

Tres took the bait, jumping right into Dutch's balled up fist. Before hitting the ground, he tried to target the bulldog's waist, but slipped on a book, falling into the large dog's clutches. Before he could commence to pummeling the cat, Dutch found himself muzzle to muzzle with Sparkz.

"Class, take your seats!" Mr. Wiever bellowed, tossing his desk over. The noise distracted Sparkz just enough to stop him from landing the first blow. Slinking out from under Dutch, Sparkz strolled coolly towards Mr. Wiever. With his only paw, he set the iron desk back up and took his seat, not giving the canines another glance.

"Now, you're probably all wondering how you can basically understand me today, given that this is basically beginner ESL class, right?" Mr. Wiever wasted no time, lest the bad blood boil over. The students looked at one another, a bit confused and intrigued, less than the teacher had anticipated.

"The reason is that I spent last night wiring the classroom with translation devices that bounce my voice off the walls and into your ears without you even knowing it. Isn't that cool?"

You could almost hear the cricket playing the world's smallest violin for the teacher, his disappointment at the lack of appreciation was so great.

"I warn you, though," he continued, lest he lose his nerve. "It will only be for today and today alone because today's lecture is a special one."

A couple of students politely tried minimizing their yawns.

"So I'd like to direct your attention to the great Walter Memphonis, Ph.D. Anyone here familiar with his work?"

The cricket's solo grew louder.

"I see. How about Noam Chomsky and his theory of generative grammar?"

A few light bulbs went on amongst the class, but no one dared admit knowledge beyond the norm of zero knowledge. The teacher's keen eye caught the glimmers however, which sparked his enthusiasm even more.

"As you may know, Chomsky suggested that all humans share the same original language, but learn to express it in different ways and norms, hence languages," Wiever began. "How this applies to you, my mammals and gentlereptile," Wiever nodded to an iguana in the front, "is that Dr. Memphonis took it a step further, suggesting all animals share an original language. We can all communicate, as we once did before there was the idea of hierarchy and the humans took over, so to speak."

The professor could almost feel the number of pissed off looks he go from this observation and decided to test the waters, going further.

"If we had all been allowed to develop at the same time and at the same ability, don't you think we'd all be equal now? But didn't humans only have the ability to steal power by exploiting your weaknesses? Pitting us, and essentially you against each other?" He nodded at Sparkz, then Dutch. "Iago to Othello?"

…

The courtyard was especially quiet at lunchtime. The lecture had worked on some level, to where foxes were talking casually with dogs, but not much more in terms of interspecies relationships. Sparkz perched atop the western wall as Tres leaned against it, eyeing Dutch's crew.

_You think he said was truth?_

_ His kind put us in this position in the first place. Why should we believe him?_

_ Maybe. _

_ "Maybe" my ass. Next to dogs, they our public enemy number 1. _

_ Yeah. Yeah…_

_ Can I ask you somethin' Spakz?_

_ Again?_

_ Huh?_

_ That was already question._

_ Wiseass. Who did it? Dogs or people?_

_ My paw?_

_ Yeah._

_ People._

_ That's your answer then, isn't it?_

_ …_

"Geezus what's with the "wah wah wah" serenade? Sounds like you kittens are killing cellos here!" Dutch had positioned himself in the blind spot of the lunch monitors. This time he had come with backup.

Sparkz leapt down from the wall, staying crouched and ready to pounce. Tres held his paw up, signaling for Sparkz to back off.

_I got this one, bro._

Tres dashed for Dutch, knocking the large canine off-balance. They crashed to the ground and in no time Dutch was back on top. His cronies surrounded the two as Dutch began pummeling Tres in the neck and face with closed fists. Sparkz, livid, still had the presence of mind to look for an opening to where he could help his only friend. After a few moments he found it, slamming a hound into the wall with all his might, and pounced Dutch's back. Before the two could begin round two, five shots rang out. When the smoke cleared, four dogs had darts sticking into them and one cat. The hound Sparkz had thrown was lying motionless against the wall and Tres was twitching, a bloody mess below Dutch.

"I n-never authorized you to s-shoot my son with anything!" Furrball fumed.

"Please… look at it from our perspective. Your son could have lost an eye like his friend did or even worse, trying to go toe to toe with a bulldog," Mr. Wiever offered, pacing. He didn't like his answer any more than his orders to take said stance.

"And we can't really forget about the concussion he gave to another student, intentional or not."

"He's j-just a k-kid, but he'd have had a good r-reason, if he did it. He's not a psy-sycho."

"Even so, Mr. err… Furrball, we've only had your son in class for two days and he's already been in two confrontations. I think you should seriously look into homeschooling as an option if you want to see your kid out of the pound or worse."

"You're cr-crazy if you th-think I'm letting him s-s-step another day in this fascist d-dungeon!"

"Very good, then we're agreed."

"Fu-fu-fuc-forget it. I'm outta h-here."

…

Furrball kept the door opened a crack, after another failed attempt to coax Sparkz out from under his bed. The feeling of detox from the tranqs had sent Sparkz back to scarier, colder times, he'd nearly forgotten. The blue cat sighed heavily, missing the chair as he slumped over near the dining table, feeling hopeless and dejected.

Fifi entered, phone in paw, cautiously approaching her lover.

"A-any word?"

"Tres is fine. It was his lazy eye that was punched out. That eye couldn't see anyway. They're going to give him a glass eye next week when the swelling goes down."

"Th-that's good to h-hear, I su-suppose."

"How's he?"

"K-keeps s-sayin' only one th-thing. He h-hates dogs."

"Oh no."

"I told him say "I hate THOSE dogs, but he doesn't get it."

"Wait. Say that again?"  
"What? _Those_ dogs. Not just dogs. That'd make him specist."

"Furrball, your stutter…"

"I don't have time to stutter now! This is…"

"…"

"Oh."

"It took the concern of a loved one. I guess you're finally cured!"

"We'll celebrate later. What are we gonna do about money?"

Furrball rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. Fifi joined him, saying nothing.

"I called the studio and told them I need to quit to home-school Sparkz."

Fifi tried to suppress the surprise in her eyes.

"We'll manage. You've managed this far without money, haven't you?"

"Didn't have a family to provide for, though…"

Before the conversation could go any further, the two felt a rumbling at the door. Before they could get up to see what was going on, the door swung open to reveal a large cat with eyes as red as his nose.

"YOU WH-WH_WHAT?"

The End - Part 4

_Yeah, kind of a digression, but at least that annoying stutter is gone. How's he gonna pay for the wedding if he quit acting? How's he gonna make it to the wedding now that Sylvester's pissed again? AUGH! No sleep for weeks!_


	5. Swearwords and Surnames

5. Swearwords and Surnames

A confrontation was inevitable. The generation gap, conflicting philosophies and perhaps even social status had always put master and apprentice at odds. While earlier in his career, Sylvester was able to show his versatility, he'd been forced to give up his diverse talents for his more conventional shtick. Furrball, on the other hand, had it all going for him, despite the humblest of beginnings and lack of credits and awards to his name. What pissed Sylvester off the most about his so called protégé was that Furrball couldn't care less about reaching his own potential. He'd sacrificed ambition for more…important things.

Furrball stepped forward to meet his aggressor, blocking Fifi's view of the Looney Tune.

"I quit," he spoke plainly, his eyes narrowing to mere slits.

Sylvester grimaced for a moment, his paw trembling uncontrollably. The determination in the blue cat's voice was palpable; you could feel it across the street.

"Because you need to home s-s-school your runt?"

"He isn't a runt."

"S-s-stay on topic, s-s-squirt," Sylvester nearly accented his point with a backhand, but decided against it at the last second.

The two felines locked eyes once more, causing the lights to dim as the sparks jumped between the two. Fifi took a step back, as impressed as she was nervous. She'd seen this happen thousands of times in the studio, but wasn't aware it could be done in private without the cameras rolling or the FX generators running.

The sound of Fifi's movement brought Furrball back into reality, initiating a low growl from the street cat.

"Why'd you come?" he demanded, shoving a claw in the older cat's face.

"To s-s-stop you from making the worst miss-s-s-stake of your life," Sly responded unfazed.

"Family comes first for me." Furrball asserted.

"Then you're gonna fail just like your father," Sylvester snapped.

The blue cat's eye widened, registering the words, as did his fiancé's. Before Fifi could even try to stop him, Furrball slashed Sylvester across the muzzle, tearing into flesh for a moment before he found himself toppled over at the feet of his former mentor, grabbing his ribs. Sylvester had simply baited him, burying his knuckles into the cat's ribcage.

"Furrball!" Fifi started toward the fallen cat, causing him to hold up his paw. Had he been able to utter the words to stay back, Fifi would have ignored them regardless. Kneeling down next to her love, Fifi shot a dirty look at Sylvester, who turned away, neither proud nor ashamed at what he'd done.

Wiping the blood off of his own face, Sylvester continued, while he had the young couple's full attention.

"You can't do anything else for money unless you were thinkin' about turnin' to crime and we both know you ain't got the stomach for that," Sylvester reasoned. "You have to finish the show. At least the first season, anyway."

"Sparkz," Furrball managed to wheeze as he tried regulating his breath.

"Who, the runt? He needs a tutor, right? Who better than the best of the best?"

Fifi and Furrball looked at each other for a moment, puzzled. Their faces turned back to Sylvester, realizing what he'd meant at the same time to find the tuxedo cat proudly pointing to himself.

"You?" Fifi mused.

"You're crazy," Furrball observed.

"And **you're** slim on options," Sylvester retorted.

"We can't afford you…"

"I don't need any more damned money, stupid."

"You'll put crazy ideas in his head."

"No more than the crazy ideas YOU did. I'll toughen him up so he can control himself in public without goin' to jail after ten minutes."

Furrball looked at Fifi. It **did** seem awfully tempting, as crazy as it sounded. Fifi shrugged, nodding. What choice was there?

"If we agree, you've got to promise not to-"

"Promise not to what? I've been in this game so much longer than you, I could be your great grandfather! I only got one rule. Don't question my methods. It worked for the most part with you and it'll work with your runt. Got it?"

Furrball and Fifi gazed into one another's eyes; their telepathy actively weighing the pros and cons of the plan. Finally, they both smiled. Furrball, with the help of his love rose to his feet, extending a paw. Sylvester smiled and reached out for Furrball just in time to get sucker punched in the eye. Flying down on his ass, Sylvester took a moment to shake the cobwebs out.

"WHAT THE FU-"

Sylvester opened his eyes to find Furrball grinning impishly offering a paw. He accepted it reluctantly and rose to his feet. They both smirked, the reason for the blow unnecessary to verbally articulate.

"We've got to start today or he'll clam up for a few months on all accounts," Sylvester announced, striding past Furrball. "Where's the runt's room?"

"His name is Sparkz," Fifi chimed in, not completely on the wagon with this scheme.

"Can't it wait until Monday? He's been through a lot." Furrball tried.

"Rule number one," Sylvester uttered, finding the right room. He entered, locking the door behind him.

_Smart move, you hidin' from me._ Sylvester hadn't spoken Catonese in decades, giving his accent a rough, menacing tone.

_Who you?_ Sparkz squeezed his body tighter together under the bed, instinctively.

_Didn't you never learned to speak right? _Sylvester stood at the foot of the bed, smirking at his private joke, watching the bed quiver slightly.

_Scared? Yeah, ya better be. _

This solicited the exact response Sylvester was hoping for, as part of Sparkz' tail peeked out from beneath the bed.

_I not scared you… _though the kitten's voice shook with uncertainty.

Sylvester smiled, making a grab for the tail. With a single good yank, he pulled Sparkz out from under the bed, who gripped the frame in an attempt to prevent exposure to the light. As the mattress and frame toppled over, Sylvester lost his grip for a split second, allowing Sparkz the opportunity to flip off the falling cushion toward his assailant, slashing out at the exact same spot his father had recently cut. Through instinct, witchcraft or raw talent, Sylvester was able to counter the attack, grabbing the kitten's paw and tossing him back a few yards to create some distance.

As soon as his feet touched the floor, Sparkz was back on the attack, swinging at blinding speed, but hitting nothing. The more futile the attacks were, the more obvious they seemed to Sparkz and the angrier and sloppier he became. Just as he was about to give up from total exhaustion, Sylvester upped the ante, taking an offensive stance. Sensing the danger, Sparkz closed his eyes and threw his stump at Sylvester's temple, missing by a hair as Sylvester tackled the smaller feline to the ground. To the kitten's credit, he still put up a struggle, though it was more of a required theatric than a legitimate attempt to free himself, as he'd exhausted all of his energy. Sylvester, having pinned the kitten to the ground protracted his claws and raised his paw. This brought Sparkz back to the reality of his younger days and he wiggled his left arm free, catching the cat's paw with his stump just before Sylvester could cut him on the eye. Retracting his claws, Sylvester stood over the kitten, not offering him a helping hand.

_ You fight like a moron. Still standing like you've got two paws. That's why you lost._

Sparkz winced at these words realizing the simplicity of the truth in them. It was maddening. He sat up, refusing to rise to his feet.

_I'm a teach you how to fight like a southpaw first, then, _Sylvester continued, offering his paw to Sparkz, who declined. _No point in fillin' up a library that doesn't have any real security._

Sparkz eyed the cat as he slowly and cautiously rose to his feet. _Who you are?_

Sylvester grinned from ear to ear, his trademark air of confidence ever-present.

_Your new teacher. Just call me Professor Sly._

Sparkz cocked his head, clearly not used to the pomp and circumstance Sylvester was used to putting into his introductions.

_Papa call me "Sparkz" Will you, too?_

_ In time, kitten. For now, until your stance is stronger, we'll have to settle with "Stumpz". _

Sparkz's eyes flashed with rage for a moment, but he dared not attack the cat again. Not just yet, anyway.

…

It was late evening before Sylvester unlocked the door, emerging from Sparkz's room. Furrball had been waiting for hours for this and eagerly rushed past Sylvester, not bothering to see if the older cat wanted to debrief him. As the door closed behind him, Sylvester sighed to himself. He made his way out the door muttering something along the lines of 'never appreciated' when he found Fifi waiting for him on the front porch. He didn't bother looking at the purple skunk and descended the steps slowly.

"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Sylvester," Fifi spoke, her accent noticeably absent.

Sylvester didn't turn to face the skunk.

"Bienvenue," he responded nonchalantly as he strode towards his car.

Fifi hopped down to the sidewalk and started to follow Sylvester, a bit unsure of herself. As they got closer to the car, Sylvester eventually turned, looking at Fifi.

"S-s-something I can do for you?"

Fifi looked at her feet, unsure of how to begin. After a few moments of awkward silence, she mustered up the courage to blurt it out. "You shouldn't have brought up his father," Fifi started, unable to really complete her thought aloud.

Sylvester turned away, unlocking his car door. His body language told Fifi that he didn't have to answer to her. As he opened the door he sighed.

"I was testin' the waters was all," Sylvester was as uncomfortable with talking about the situation as Fifi was. He started to get in the car when Fifi touched his shoulder.

"What do you mean, 'test the waters'?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Fifi squeezed the cat's shoulder causing him to look into her eyes for a moment.

Sylvester shrugged Fifi's arm off and put the key in the ignition.

"You don't want to be like Pandora. You just don't." It was little more than a whisper.

"Tell me. Please."

Sylvester sighed, letting go of the key.

"You heard about his father tracking him down for that day when he was in school, right?"

Fifi nodded, barely remembering Furrball casually mention it a while back.

"The reason Benicio never tried to see him again was because he was shot to death in a gunfight a few minutes after he and Furrball went their separate ways."

Sylvester produced an old wrinkled up newspaper obituary. Placing it into Fifi's still paws, the cat drove off, leaving the shocked skunk staring off into space.

He'd always found it bit nerve-racking, passing the hall of producers on the 10th floor of the studio and this time was no exception for Furrball. Why in the world props had to be located so far away from the airbrushing and wardrobe studio was beyond the cat's comprehension. Lightening and quickening his step, Furrball tried his level best to pass the offices undetected. Just before breathing a sigh of relief, he heard a door open behind him. Failed.

"Oh Furrball," the familiar voice of his indifferent PD.

The feline stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. The PD was uncharacteristically grinning, putting the cat on edge.

"A word, please." The PD beckoned him to enter his office, disappearing behind the door. For the briefest of moments Furrball thought about telling him he was too busy, but found himself closing the door behind him before he could even finish the thought. As the feline's eyes adjusted to the lighting in the room, Furrball noticed a gaggle of important-looking suits seated at the infamous oval table.

"This might take awhile, so why don't you have a seat?"

It was times like this when Furrball hated himself for making no effort to remember names outside of his inner circle. The cat complied, nodding at Suit # 1, who he recognized as his immediate boss. Though he really had lost his stutter, he still wasn't keen on 'showing off' for…well, people.

"Nasty little scare you gave us the other day, huh? Talk about quitting and the like." Suit #1 began in a mock-jolly tone. "Good thing Ol' Sylvester was able to set things straight."

Furrball assumed the pause was meant for him to respond with some sort of agreement. With an awkward smile and nod, he whispered 'yes' in a volume no human ear could detect.

"Right, then," as if the suits needed to know he was compliant! "I wanted to let you know that we found several networks that are VERY interested in our little show. I'll spare you the boring accounting details, but basically, we're in the final stages of negotiations of picking up season two."

Furrball's eyes actually lit up. Despite his apprehensions, lack of passion for Sylvester's quest and all it entailed, this was the news he'd been waiting for and needed to hear. Financial stability was a real probability now!

"Oh, you like that, do you?" The group grinned at the sudden look of elation on Furrball's face. He tried not to be embarrassed to show legit emotion in front of them, but mostly failed at this as his cheeks turned red.

"So basically, we're looking at shooting 26 episodes for next season which means you've got your work cut out for you, mister!"

Furrball watched as Suit #1 extended an arm in his direction. Leaning forward in his seat, the cat shook the man's hand not too briskly, for the sake of the deal and performed the same ritual with the others in his immediate vicinity.

"Congratulations, Furrball. You deserve it, I'm sure," Suit #1 continued, his tone changing slightly, suggesting a possible caveat. "This is Mr. Driscoll, an assistant writer on the show. He had an idea about next season that we really like. But he insisted on running it by you for some reason. Astynax?"

Furrball's eyes focused on another suit, near the end of the table. He was almost engulfed by a shadow, but Furrball could tell clearly that he was just as nervous about being there as he was. For what purpose? The cat's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Hi there, Mr. Furrball. It's a great honor to meet you in person. Err, feline. Or whatever." Yep. Definitely nervous. "So, I wanted to know before we start, are you familiar with 'Lone Wolf and Cub?'"

Furrball's blank expression didn't even perk for a microsecond.

"No, huh? Well it's old, so I kinda figured that. Um, it's basically about this assassin type wanderer, not so different from your character who travels the countryside with his son in a carriage."

At the mention of "son", Furrball's ears flattened.

"Wait a minute now, before you say 'no', think about it for a second," Driscoll tried, reading the apprehension and rage in the cat's eyes. As a TV writer, he must have been well-versed at reading eyes. "You probably figured we were going to ask if we could cast your son as your son on the show, right? That's true, but think of the benefits. You would be able to spend a lot more time together, and you'd be doing your kid a HUGE favor, getting his foot in the door of the film industry before he's even a teenager. I mean, how could you deny your son an opportunity that doesn't even come once in a lifetime for most?"

Furrball knew the supporting reasons before the man even rattled them off. He knew full-well what growing up under the spotlight could do to someone. But he also knew how incredibly difficult it was to live with absolutely nothing for so long.

"Let me talk to Sparkz first, okay?"

All eyes turned to the blue cat who had so indifferently broken his code of silence to the human race. Driscoll was as shocked as the others but had the presence of mind to try and seal the deal.

"Great, Furrball. You do that. Just remember that if we don't cast your real son, we'll have to cast another actor. You already know about bonds made by mutual suffering... I'll leave it at that."

Furrball nodded, finished with the conversation.

"Now that that's out of the way, there's going to be something of a cast party tonight celebrating your success. I don't think I need to let you know how important it is that you at least show your face," Suit #1 took over once again.

Furrball caught himself about to roll his eyes. Five minutes' notice in a billion dollar industry. Why did it always work that way?

The party had been a blur. As per usual, Furrball approached the event going into autopilot, keeping the mingling to a minimum without seeming like a snob or an outcast, thus, not ruining his mystique. The only real thing he remembered from the party was Fifi's expression. She was happy, with good reason to be, but her smile seemed plastered on her face, as if everything made her smile at the same level… He knew that expression. He'd coined that expression. It meant a front… something was wrong. He hadn't bothered to try and extract it from her during the party, but on the way back, he started obsessing over the forced look of jubilation.

"You worried about Sparkz?"

Fifi looked over at her fiancé, suspicious about the question.

"What?"

"The 2nd season. You don't want me to ask him?"

"That's not it." She'd slipped up before she could even put up the defenses. The cat immediately went in for the kill.

"Then what IS it? With the fake smile? What's bothering you?"

Fifi sighed, sitting on a park bench. So this was why he'd insisted on walking home.

"I don't…know," Fifi breathed.

"…how to start?" The feline offered. Fifi nodded, unsure of herself.

"In that case," Furrball pulled up his pants leg revealing a Band-Aid. Ripping it off as fast as he can, Furrball winced as some of his fur stuck to the bandage. He smiled at his love and sat down next to her. The skunk swallowed hard as her knees started to knock.

"Sylvester gave me this," she spoke as fast as she could before she could stop herself. Producing the old obituary, she placed it in Furrball's paws, closing them. Squeezing tightly so he wouldn't be able to see what it was. Furrball looked into Fifi's eyes, a gentle warmth transferring between the mammals, which relaxed Fifi's body just enough so that the cat could look at the clipping. He'd been studying for months in secret and could read much better now as well. Folding the paper into a tiny square when he finished, Furrball smiled at Fifi.

"I'll bet he wanted to keep it a secret from me, right?"

Fifi nodded slowly, staring down at her feet.

Furrball rose to his feet, unfolded the paper and studied it for a bit.

"Benicio Fuego-Torres," he spoke with a mix of reverence and disdain, pausing after each word. Smiling, he looked back at Fifi. "Hey, now we got a last name we can use at the wedding for me!" It wasn't fake joy. He was actually relieved about that. And yet…

FIfi looked up. She could see his body trembling.

"Hey, I figured something like that would've happened eventually. It's not like I even knew him or anything." The cat pulled out his wallet. Turning back to Fifi, he smiled again. "I'm just happy you didn't keep it from me like anyone else would have. That's why I love you so much."

Fifi stood up slowly. She knew that he did, but she'd never heard him utter the words before. It felt strangely wonderful to hear such words despite the circumstances.

Opening the wallet, Furrball produced three benjamins.

"Ya know, I always thought I'd see him again," his tone darkening a bit. "Which was why as soon as I started to make money, I kept $300 on the chance we'd meet."

Fifi wanted nothing more than to hold Furrball and squeeze him tightly, but for some reason, the skunk couldn't approach him just yet.

"$300," he continued, "The price of a meal at a sushi place. That's all he ever spent on me, ya know? … I wanted to give the money back, so I could say that I didn't owe him **anything**; that I got to here by myself alone, ya know?"

Fifi gulped as Furrball looked at her, his quaking getting worse.

"But now that I think about it, if I saw him again… I think I would've used the money to take him out to dinner, ya know? Just to spend a bit more time with…" The quivering just got too much and the cat dropped to the ground.

The feline was practically seizing, trying to keep the tears from coming up. As Fifi wrapped her arms around him, he could hold them back no longer and the flood gates opened as he held onto her for dear life.

End- Part 5

_So, the Bachelor Party is coming soon, right? _


	6. Myopic Restitutions

6. Myopic Restitutions

Koyangi Quest Episode 07

Thick layers of gray rolling hills cover the landscape as far as the eye can see, partially masked by a dense fog which eerily glows in the crescent moonlight. A dull campfire crackles, whining for more fuel as its smoke integrates itself into the hazy sky. The night-blue cat's right eye shines fiercely as he glares at his companion, whose chattering teeth drown out the sizzle of the fire.

TOSHI

Don't b-b-b-blame me! I told you I was n-n-no

good sleeping under the s-s-stars! Can't we just

put a couple of more logs on the fire?

Toshi sighs, not bothering to look at the inevitable shaking of the cat's head. Being so close to enemy territory, they can't risk giving away their position any more than necessary. The cat's glare doesn't soften.

TOSHI

No disrespect to your master

or anything, but aren't there

competent blacksmiths everywhere?

Why are we risking life and limb just for one-

The blue cat's eyes shift towards the east and he unsheathes his blade, causing Toshi's complaint to stop in mid-sentence. As the cat ducks into a crouching position, Toshi grips his daggers tightly, eyes darting around, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruders.

"Welcome. Welcome! So good of you to come. Come in, please."

Furrball let his fiancé take the lead in this venture, having zero experience in making a house visit before…as an equal, anyway.

"_Merci_, _Docteur _Alva. _Nous_ didn't want to be being any trouble, knowing this is such a trying time for _vous_ and your family," Fifi asserted as Furrball coaxed young Sparkz into the house, trying his best not to push him too far.

"Ah, Fifi. Your French … I'd almost forgotten you were from Paris," Dr. Alva said. "My wife, she's at work, but she's from Normandy originally."

"Oh _vraiment_? We should get together sometime. I've so missed having a nice chat in my mother tongue," Fifi replied, half-lying. Furrball smiled at this, reading her intonation correctly. Dr. Alva then turned his attention to the blue cat.

"Furrball, your reputation precedes you. You are most welcome here in my home." The man gave Furrball a brisk handshake and the feline reciprocated, not sensing any phony formalities in the man's voice.

"And this must be Sparkz, right?"

Sparkz clung to Furrball's pants leg, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, he's-" Dr. Alva waved his hand, stopping Fifi's apology in mid-sentence.

"I completely understand. I _am_ a vet, you know?"

Fifi and Furrball watched as Dr. Alva knelt a few feet away from Sparkz and grinned.

_Milo tells me you're a little ball of fire. _

Sparkz peeked out from behind his dad thoroughly confused. A human speaking Catonese went completely beyond his comprehension abilities. He blinked a few times and stared intently at the man.

_He's told me about your past dealings with people too. I assure you I'm not one of them, but I do want to apologize on behalf of my species. _And with that, the man solemnly bowed his head.

Sparkz blinked a few more times then sniffed. Loosening his grip, he haphazardly approached the person on all fours and knelt in front of him for a moment. Their eyes locked for a split second before Sparkz lost interest and started to investigate his surroundings more.

"I'm afraid that's all you're going to get from him, though he really seems to like you," Furrball broke his original vow to hold his tongue, seeing as how the man had taken the time and consideration to learn and use Catonese. It was the least he could do.

_Milo is in the den. I'm sure you can find him._ Dr. Alva informed Sparkz. The kitten nodded solemnly and disappeared out of the room in search of his only friend, leaving the adults in the foyer.

"Not that it's really any help, but I have to tell you. I think Sparkz's red eye isn't a birth defect," Dr. Alva observed. "When I was on assignment in Rio, I came across this optic nerve disease…. The locals called it "Olho do Caçador". Hunter's eye."

The concerned parents exchanged glances before the expert.

"Is it going to…"

"Not to worry… Basically it means that eye sees infrared. Most of us humans would pay top dollar for such an ability."

The ride home wasn't exactly a walk in the park for anyone. Fifi kept her eyes on the road, but couldn't help but glance at the kitten with the rear view mirror. Sparkz seemed incredibly despondent after seeing and inevitably speaking with his only friend.

To her right, things weren't looking up at all. Furrball seemed to be rather dejected after meeting Dr. Alva. Fifi could only guess the source of his gloominess was that he'd finally met a human that didn't fit the stereotype of the ones he normally dealt with; the ones who took in so-called 'pets'. The whole idea just seemed vexing, especially making a house call as equals...

"It's green."

Fifi blinked a few times looking at Furrball in surprise. He smiled softly. Catching her bearings the skunk accelerated, making the turnoff to their street.

"You okay?" Furrball inquired.

Fifi smiled. That was _her_ line. "Yeah," she declared, eyes forward. "Just thinking about somethin'."

"Try thinking out loud once in a while. It makes the world seem less lonely."

Fifi's ears could barely register the words, coming from the blue feline. Was **he** really giving **her** advice about opening up?

"That Dr. Alva's a nice man, isn't he?"

Furrball smiled, touching his fiancé's shoulder. "Sure is," he agreed.

_He talk funny._

The adults turned their attention to the back seat.

"It speaks!" Fifi joked. Furrball couldn't hold in the laughter.

_We __**all**__ talk funny, Sparkz._

Fifi turned her attention back to Furrball. "He said something about telling a joke and you said everyone jokes?"

Furrball grinned, impressed. She was really taking to her Catonese lessons. "Really close," he encouraged. "He said Dr. Alva talks funny and I said we all do."

Fifi turned into their driveway and stopped the car. As per usual, Sparkz jumped out the window and scurried into the townhouse via the roof.

"He's gonna have to stop doin' that in broad daylight," the older cat observed. As he reached for the door, he felt a warm paw atop his. Grinning, Furrball turned, anticipating an invitation, but stopped, seeing the solemn expression on his lover's face.

"The church is going to feel a bit empty," Fifi asserted, looking down.

The cat was oblivious. "We RSVP'd everyone you know. Right? The whole school's comin'…" Reality slapped the feline upside the head and he grew quiet with the sudden realization.

"You've never even really spoke about your parents before…" he tried.

"Mom passed on about four years ago," the skunk began, exhaling heavily, as if this was the first time she'd ever spoken the words.

Furrball wasn't sure how to respond. 'I'm sorry' seemed so trite. Before he could stop himself, he'd already kissed her on the cheek. The two interlocked paws and sat still for a moment.

"Your dad…?" he was unsure of how to approach this, based on Hampton's revelation at the reunion, but not asking might lead to suspicion. Fifi squeezed his paw and looked out the window.

"He's in Haiti. He said he'd send some money our way, but he definitely won't be showing up. He's what you'd call 'old fashioned'. Kinda like my psycho aunt. Understand?"

Furrball's paw immediately touched his back at the spot where the butcher knife's handle had struck him.

"I'm sorry," he couldn't help it.

Fifi looked at the cat like he was crazy. "On _my_ suggestion to go to _my_ aunt's house and she tries to kill you, _you're_ sorry?"

Furrball shrugged. "I'm sorry there's so little tolerance and so much ignorance around us. I can't say that I never contributed to it and karma's a vengeful lady."

Fifi produced a small photo from her wallet and placed it in the cat's paws, unable to comment on his articulation. Furrball studied the photo for a moment. Something familiar spiked through his head, but he lost the thought before he could wrapped his mind around it.

"Who is this?" he pointed to the squirrel in the picture.

"I have no idea. It's just… a _real_ father wouldn't resent his daughter so much…"

At that moment Furrball realized that 2+2 doesn't equal 7.

"You think he's…"

"I found this among my mom's stuff when I was cleaning out her apartment. It was hidden pretty well and I just happened upon it during my last sweep. It's possible that this might've been my real fa…th-"

Fifi grabbed her knees as an icy feeling surged through her body. Furrball pried her from her curled up position and embraced her almost crushing her with his hug. They stayed like that until the skunk's silent tears dried in the cat's blue fur.

…

At Fifi's insistence, Furrball researched his father's surnames to see if he could find any living relatives anywhere. As the cat entered the living room with the manila folder in hand, Fifi could tell the news was rather grim.

"Well, the good news is, I've got three uncles all the same age as my dad would've been, alive and well in Sao Paulo," Furrball began, his faux cheeriness leaving as he completed the thought.

…

"Go ahead," Fifi encouraged.

"Well, the problem is they're alive and well in a maximum security prison in Sao Paulo."

Fifi dropped her newspaper and looked into Furrball's eyes. There was no real indication of any emotion, yet his tone was bordering destitution.

"Defying convention sure is a lonely path," it was barely a whisper. "Would you shred that for me?"

Furrball turned away and blew his nose as Fifi put the papers into the shredder. When the sound was over, he turned back around.

"So who's your maid of honor gonna be? Have you decided?" Fifi could tell he was forcing it, but complied nonetheless.

"Shirley's gonna do it. It's like she's more excited than me if that's even possible. Wants to make sure every detail is perfect or something. Considering what happened to her and Plucky…"

"Yeah, is that going to be a problem that they're both gonna be there?"

"I don't think so… It wasn't a messy divorce or anything. They just didn't …click."

The two exchanged glances… Both Shirley and Plucky suffered from excessive personality disorder. Made perfect sense that it wouldn't work out. Unlike them…

"And the best man?"

"Oh right! Dizzy can't make it to the States until the day of the wedding, so I asked Calamity…"

At the mention of "Calamity" Fifi started to sweat. Furrball didn't notice and continued.

"He "said" okay, so I guess he's going to be organizing the bachelor party and such."

Fifi glared at Furrball at the mention of "Bachelor party".

"Hey, don't be like that. I'm not gonna do anything. It's for the other guys. Besides, you're having a bachelorette party as well, aren't you?"

The skunk's expression softened slightly.

"Let's just agree not to talk about that night afterwards, alright?"

The cat nodded.

The bass was thumping, bumping in the kind of way that made the sober ones worry about the fact that they could feel their internal organs rattling to the beat. Of course by this time, not too many of the patrons weren't drunk.

Calamity had found his niche at the ones and twos for a while, relieving the hired DJ for a lunch break. The coyote's techno-savvy brain was the ideal operating device for the mixers and audio equipment. As he let loose on the system few had the restraint necessary to keep from throwing their bodies around like morons on the dance floor.

Furrball nursed his Long Island Iced Tea at the bar, exhausted from showing Plucky earlier that he was more than capable of crunkin' and breakin'. Taking in the scene, the cat was amazed at himself for not simply being the wallflower he'd been comfortable as at the Looniversity. Truth be told, he'd been dreading the bachelor party moreso than his last boxing match. He was pleased to know that his expectations had been wrong.

As Calamity's fifteen-minute mix came to a close, he was too exhausted to acknowledge the wild applause from old classmates and other patrons alike. He smirked at the fact that he found this work to be particularly easy in comparism to his inventions that never really got the praise they deserved. As the regular DJ returned from his break, Calamity dropped down to the dance floor, maneuvering past the labyrinth of bodies to the bar, welcomed by Furrball's thumbs up. The coyote gave the cat a fist pound and tapped the bar, pointing the bartender in the direction of a bottle of Everclear.

"You sure 'bout that, hon?" the barkeep said, frowning. "A rabbit's bourbon is a coyote's 151."

Calamity smirked and typed "1-9-0" on the barkeep's calculator. She looked at the screen and laughed.

"Yeah right. I could lose my license."

"For selling the stuff, or hiding the 190 in the 151 bottles?" Furrball remarked, grinning devilishly. The barkeep's eyes widened.

"H-h-how'd y-you…."

Calamity pointed to his muzzle.

"The nose knows," Furrball laughed, slapping his compadre on the back.

Discreetly pouring Calamity the drink, the barkeep hurried to the other side to wait on other patrons. Furrball raised his glass to Calamity's and the two toasted the occasion. The coyote wheezed after downing his forbidden fruit in a single shot and his eyes started to glaze over.

"Hey, what was all that about?" Furrball grabbed the glass from Calamity and caught him just before he fell over. Calamity's eyes were spinning the way they used to do in his shorts. Not a good sign.

"Let's get you some fresh air for a bit," the cat asserted dropping some cash on the counter as he led Calamity to the veranda.

"Hey! Man, you disrespecting me? Take 'em out!"

Furrball glanced over at a trashed green mallard at the karaoke machine, accompanied as always by his sidekick pig. Ridiculous.

"How do you screw up an Offspring song?" he mused.

Calamity took a deep breath of fresh air outside. He tried to get a grip on his bearings and eventually settled for leaning against the bricks. The night sky was too filled with light pollution for any stars to be visible; a pity indeed, for they were truly a sight to behold from the desert sky. Furrball crouched near the railing, watching the cars speed by. He, himself had been mesmerized by the autos' flashing lights in the night, growing up on the streets.

"Anyone that drinks like that," Furrball turned to face the coyote. "Is drinkin' to punish or forget. Which is it with you?"

Calamity slowly raised his paw and held up three fingers, avoiding eye contact with the cat, as per usual.

"Both?" Furrball mused. Calamity nodded solemnly.

The two sat still for a moment, letting the summer breeze blew by, not wanting their "conversation" to be passed along to foreign ears. Furrball watched as Calamity opened up his PDA, producing a set of headphones he offered to him. Bemused, Furrball put the headphones on as the young genius plugged the jack into the PDA. The device's text-to speech voice sounded strikingly close to Wile E.'s.

_**I gotta get this out of my system while I still have booze in it.**_

Furrball looked at Calamity intently, having no idea what could be on the coyote's mind.

_**You know, I always had an eye on you back in school. **_

__The cat's face drew a blank.

_**I guess it was easy to do. You seemed to be generally oblivious to everyone outside your immediate path.**_

"So…why?"

_**I dunno… **_Calamity's cheeks turned beet red as he typed. _**I think I was always kinda… you know.**_

Furrball was racking his brain trying to make sense of the garbled words. Finally a light hit his eyes and a landslide of thoughts and memories filled his head as his eyes turned from the ground to the coyote. "M-me?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

_**Yeah. I think so. **_The coyote sheepishly looked away.

An ambulance's siren interrupted the moment. A welcome distraction for the awkwardness of the situation. When all was quiet again, the two locked eyes once more.

"I owe you my life for bustin' me out of the pen…" Furrball began. "I wouldn't be getting married if it wasn't for you… I wouldn't be any different than when I was growing up if our paths hadn't crossed again…" Furrball's voice trailed off as he started to choke.

_**You don't have to force it. I already know.**_

"I'm sorry, Calamity… I had no idea…" the cat breathed. "I just… I don't feel the same wa-"

_**You don't need to tell me that! **_ Calamity mashed the keys like he was pissed off at an invention for not working correctly. _**You think I wanted to have those feelings? Well they just showed up one day and stayed in the back of my mind like a splinter you can't see… I didn't even know until it was too late to… **_The coyote stopped typing, done with the thought.

Furrball watched a tear fall, like it was in slow motion. Stared at it as it splashed the pavement, exploding into a million droplets. Felt a guilt that was indescribable.

_**It's no one's fault. It's just how things are. How they had to be.**_

The two sat in a stream of silence once again reflecting of the revelations. The feline broke the stillness.

"So you with Fifi was…"

Calamity snapped to attention at a loss for words at first.

_**Like I said, I didn't know what I was doing when I was watching you… So I didn't know that I was that way. So when I bumped into Fifi in Fresno, I figured that I'd forget about it…you, the feelings, everything. **_

"Did it work?"  
Calamity grinned, his teeth flashing in a neon light. _**At first, yeah.**_

"What happened?"

_**…Nothing. Not until I saw you again.**_

__"Huh?"

_**If you have to ask, you don't need to know. We'll leave it at that.**_

Furrball's eyebrow raised, still unaware of the awkward direction of the coyote's recent sentiments. They both took another moment to let the words sink in.

"I want you to do something for me, Calamity," the feline spoke suddenly as if possessed. "I want you to give up and accept yourself for who you are, whatever that makes you."

The coyote cocked his head.

"Maybe when you accept what you are, you can get over your feelings, me or whatever and you can get on with what you're meant to be doing. Because brooding over your fate or your nature isn't going to lead ya to your destiny."

Calamity gave the cat a sobering look.

"You might even be able to find your voice if you can do that." With that, Furrball stood up. "C'mon. It's getting' cold."

_**I'll catch up.**_ Calamity retrieved the headphones from Furrball, and the cat went back to the party.

"Meep meep meemeep meep mee meep?"

Furrball eyed the roadrunner, clearly annoyed with the question.

"Leaveitalone," the cat muttered, making his way back to the bar.

Waiting for him at the bar were some more familiar and equally concerned faces.

"Everything… okay, Furrball?" Hamton's voice dripped with concern as usual, but this time with actual cause for alarm. The cat shrugged, pounding on the bar, motioning for another drink.

"Say, don't you think you've had enough for one night?"

The cat eyed the rabbit with disdain, not appreciating the reproachful tone. Buster, as expected, remained adamant.

"Whatever it is, wouldn't it be better to talk about it rather than drown it out?"

Before he could down the shot, Furrball stopped, the words resonating for a moment.

"Give 'em a break Buster," Plucky butted in, coming up to the table, brandishing his own liquid courage. "Can't you see Cal cryin' like a little girl out there? Ol' Furrball probably had to break the news that he wasn't a fa-"

Furrball tossed the glass, shattering it, along with a dozen or so bottles into a billion pieces.

Plucky swallowed hard, the action not quite sobering him up. "Don't worry, bud. It's not like he wasn't obvious all these year or nothi—"

Furrball spun around, an unholy terror. For a split second, his pupils weren't visible as he balled up his fist. Swinging with all his might, the cat regained control just in time to stop himself from killing for the second time. Plucky swallowed hard as the air blasted past his face for a moment, realizing how close he had come to being a victim of a train wreck.

"Put it all on my tab, and enjoy yourselves," the cat declared, striding towards the exit. His party was over.

"Alright, so like we know you wouldn't have gone along with it if you knew, but we've got a surprise for you, Fifi!" The hippie duck was never without an excess of jubilation in her system.

Fifi sensed discord in the air as the music was amplified. She threw a quick smile at her friends, but secretly longed for the night to be over, as she hated surprises moreso than her fiancé did. All of a sudden, the lights went out as the dry ice machines kicked a thick cloud of fog over the dance floor. Right Said Fred cued just on time.

"I'm too sexy for my love…"

The lights were up and the squeals and screams commenced as a vaguely familiar face lip synched and danced to the one-hit wonder as he threw off his leather jacket. No one seemed to notice the look of shock and horror on Fifi's face as the blue skunk strutted his way around the room, working the crowd, frequently eyeing her with predatory intentions.

As the song ended, Johnny was right there in front of Fifi, wearing little more than his faded jeans.

"If you'll excuse me a minute ladies," the only male in the room announced. "Johnny Pew's gotta a little private session with the number one bachelorette in the VIP lounge."

Fifi glanced uneasily at Shirley, who playfully slugged her on the shoulder.

"Trust me, girl," The slightly inebriated waterfowl began. "You're never gonna have this chance again."

Fifi giggled nervously, scanning the room for Babs as Johnny started to lead her away. Babs was preoccupied by her cell, probably talking with Buster. The older skunk wrapped his arm around Fifi as the two entered the VIP room. Johnny was quick to lock the door behind him, much to the dismay of the rest of the bunch.

Fifi stood very still, refusing to face the former movie star. This amused Johnny greatly, as he chuckled, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Why're you here?" Fifi demanded, having lost her patience for Johnny's theatrics years ago. Suddenly, the skunkette felt a sharp pain in her backside that sent her crashing to the floor. Spinning onto her back, Fifi stared wide-eyed at the older skunk as he offered her his paw.

"I told you I'd get you back for kicking me all those years ago… when you least expected it."

"That's why you came all the way…"

"Not in the least." All humor and amusement drained from the blue skunk's tone. "Bimbette, she's in delicate condition currently. I need you to sub in for a couple of months."

"…Go screw yourself." Though she'd meant it, Fifi worried about the consequences of defiance. She dreaded seeing the skunk's lips mold into a sadistically evil grin.

"I'm sure you'll want to reconsider," he sang pulling out his cell phone.

…

It was faint, but stirred nostalgic feelings nonetheless. The random shots of air emanating from the cool concrete. As a kitten, he'd spent most of his nights running from (or chasing depending on the weather) this phenomenon, which only occurred in the late summer. Furrball sighed. No real fond memories would accompany this recollection, though plenty of old scars began to ache on his body for some reason.

Rounding the corner, the feline froze in his tracks. Taking semi-cover behind a streetlight, the cat watched for a shadow and waited. In his younger days, he could sense a prowler a mile away. The cat silently cursed himself as he waited, hoping to get the drop on his shadow. The alcohol hadn't yet left his system, so he'd need his first strike to be brutal, as its speed wouldn't be up to snuff.

As he expected, a long shadow gradually subsided from around the corner and just as it was out of sight, Furrball jolted forward, going straight for the jugular. Before he could crush his pursuer's windpipe, the feline stopped to find a certain coyote struggling to breathe before him. Furrball relaxed his grip, then pushed away, walking over to the curb and plopped down. Calamity meekly joined him, now alert from his near-death experience. The cat nodded at him, retrieving the earphones once more, equally sobered.

"…so Fresno…?" Furrball broke the ice for once.

Calamity gave the cat a shocked expression for a second, momentarily forgetting his earlier gut-spilling session. He hesitated before typing.

_**It was strange. I was going down in an elevator and she seemed to be waiting to go up. Soon as we made eye contact as I was getting out, she grabbed my arm and followed me out. **_

Furrball scratched his head, the words failing to make sense to him. "So she was staying there or something?"

_**I don't think so, because I was on my way to Ohio and she insisted on driving me there.**_

"You didn't find that odd?"

_**Of course I did. I kept asking her why she was there, wanted to leave California so bad and fast and why she was all dressed up that night.**_

"Dressed up?" the cat cocked his head.

_**Made me feel…**___Calamity blushed, smiling as he recalled the moment. Furrball snapped a couple of times, getting him back on track.

"And she never answered you for the whole six months?"

_**Just mumbled something about work being slow.**_

"Huh." Furrball stood up, finished with the inquisition. "I'm gonna walk home. See ya Saturday, right?"

Calamity smirked and nodded. He watched as the cat took a couple of steps into the darkness, then stopped, not turning around.

"Kinda strange that you'd come all this way just to tell me you met Fifi in an elevator…" Furrball continued walking, no indication that he was anticipating or in need of a response.

The coyote slowly rose to his feet, hurt by the implications, but moreso by the truth behind them. He watched with remorse as the cat turned the corner, disappearing from his sight. All of a sudden, the coyote heard the unmistakable sound of tires screeching to a halt around the same corner Furrball had disappeared in.

"HURRY IT UP!"

Calamity sprinted to the corner, unfamiliar with the voice. As he peeked around the side of the building his blood ran cold. Furrball was lying on the street in a pool of what appeared to be blood while a white van revved its engine next to him. Without warning, the back door shot open and a baseball bat crashed over the cat's spine for good measure. Whatever resistance was left in Furrball subsided when two huge paws scooped him into the van. As the door shut again, Calamity had the presence of mind to laze the vehicle with the GPS tracker on his PDA. The van spun off into the night and the coyote searched desperately for a car to jack.

…

"DON'T let 'im SEE your FACE!"

Blink.

"SHUT up CHESTER! He MIGHT recognize YOUR voice."

Blink, blink.

"HOW could HE? But YOU just USED my NAME, Spike."

"HE'S coming TO! Think he HEARD us?"

Groan.

"WHO cares? JUST smack him UPSIDE the HEAD a FEW times."

"JOHNNY said WE gotta LET him LIVE long ENOUGH for THE plan TO work."

"WHATEVER."

…

"Cellular phones these days," Johnny giggled, shaking his head. "Such ingenuity." He continued, pacing around the room, making Fifi all the more uneasy. To ensure the meeting wouldn't be rudely interrupted, the blue skunk had used his natural deterrent on the doorframe; crude and albeit hard on the nose, but a necessity. The stench alone was enough to make Fifi sick, having long since abandoned said method, but Johnny's tricks were always more than enough to keep her on edge.

"Did you know you can go on the internet with the latest models?" Johnny continued, approaching Fifi with confidence. "And look at this!" he sneered, producing his phone screen. "Video calls."

…

Whether it was the impact of the crash, the loss of blood, rolling around in the back of an empty conversion van with a horrible driver behind the wheel or a combination of all of the above, Furrball's head was spinning faster than a top. His senses told him he was in a world of trouble, but offered little other information that would assist him in getting out of it. Additionally, his body refused to respond correctly to his demands… particularly his eyes, which just wouldn't focus correctly. He could tell they were dogs, two of them, but not much else. As the cat attempted for the one-hundredth time to steady his thoughts as well as his breathing, the van came to a halt. The dogs exited from the front, leaving the feline alone for a brief moment. Whatever he should have done with that second of solitude soon became irrelevant to the present as the back door opened abruptly and the same paws squeezed over his tail and right leg, tossing Furrball to the empty parking lot.

The only streetlight was nearing its last leg as it blinked and fizzled. The dogs were standing over him, snickering, but Furrball was relieved to have visual confirmation that there were only two of them. As soon as his body started listening to him again, he could…

*CRACK*

"Hey, let me at least answer the phone first!" The smaller dog took a step back, pointing a phone in his direction. "Sorry, cat. We're gonna need to do a do-over."

Furrball was in no position to protest as the larger dog picked the bat up off of his shoulder and prepared to strike again as a ringtone filled the night.

"Hiya Johnny! Ya getting' this?"

"Loud and clear," the voice on the receiver was unfamiliar to the blue cat. "Do it again, won't ya?"

…

Fifi couldn't stop the tears from pouring in front of the malicious skunk.

"Why're you doing this?" she screamed, as the screen showed Spike kicking Furrball in the ribs. Johnny grinned, taking a moment to savor Fifi's vulnerability as well as Furrball's helplessness as Spike cracked the bat on his elbow.

"I already told you, girlie. I need someone to fill in for Bimbette for a few months. She's pregnant." Fifi eyed the skunk with contempt, covering her eyes as Furrball received another blow to the spine.

"Easy on the backbone, Chester," Johnny ordered, causing Fifi to look at his face. He grinned at her before continuing. "We don't want our bargaining chip expiring, do we?" Johnny turned his attention back to Fifi, a face doused in pure evil. "One more smash on the spinal cord and he's a cripple. Two more and you're getting married in the morgue."

Fifi flopped down on the floor, the words resonating in her head.

"Hold up a minute, Chester," Johnny ordered, kneeling in front of the purple skunk.

"You know, it's not my kid. Just an occupational hazard of sorts, okay?"

"I thought it was just an escort service," Fifi managed.

"Then why'd you skip out of your first job?" Johnny challenged, his face contorted in anger for a moment before he relaxed. "You know I have a reputation to uphold. When you found out you couldn't make it in the movie business on your own, you came crawling to me back then. What changed with you that you're too good to be a call girl anymore?"  
"I never WAS a call girl!"

"Then why'd you come to me in the first place?"  
"I didn't want to go back HOME!" Fifi screamed, kicking the air.

Johnny smiled slyly, facing the phone screen again.

"Oh Chester…"

"Stop!" Fifi shouted lunging for the phone. Johnny dodged at the last second.

"Say the words, girlie."

"Okay… a few months. Just leave Furrball alone, already!"

Johnny turned his attention back to the phone.

"You heard the girl. Let him go."

Fifi was too distraught to see Johnny wink at the camera.

"Just let me get a couple of things together before we go." Fifi begged.

"Of course," Johnny replied. "I'm not _unreasonable_."

…

"Ugh, he's a real mess, isn't he?"

"Whadda we do with 'im?"

"Drive 'em to the hospital and send a picture to Johnny. When he gets out, we're supposed to take 'im out. Don't want him getting any ideas or anything."

Furrball's ears were the only organs that worked properly. The dogs might have noticed them twitching, but every other part of his body was twitching for that matter. He stayed flaccid for the drive to the hospital up until the dogs threw him out of the van and took a picture. As soon as the van was out of sight, an F-150 rolled up in front of the cat. Furrball was too tired to turn his neck to see who was there. Too tired to care that he was being gently lifted into the stretcher. Too out of it to recognize the huge explosion in the distance.

"No."

Calamity stopped, his sensitive ears picking up the sound of the cat's voice.

"Take me home, okay?" Furrball's mind was forcing itself to be coherent.

Calamity started to shake his head and head into the ER.

"Fifi…" Furrball's voice trailed off as he tried not to slip out of consciousness.

Calamity understood. The attack had to be connected to her somehow. Reluctantly, seeing the state of the feline, Calamity placed Furrball into the truck bed and headed for his home.

…

"Let go of my arm, will you?" Fifi walked as fast as she could to the door as the blue skunk kept a death grip on her wrist.

"Now, now… don't want you getting any ideas, do we?" Johnny retorted, sneering at the purple skunk.

Fifi rolled her eyes as she opened the front door and froze in her tracks, her eyes following the trail of blood on the floor to the source, standing like a zombie in a pool of it.

Furrball's eyes being glazed over notwithstanding, glowed like embers as they finally focused; landing on the blue skunk's grip.

_Let her go._

Fifi shook her arm free as Johnny was infinitely more shocked at the cat's presence than she was.

"That means get the hell off me!" Fifi screamed, running towards her lover. Before she could embrace the cat, the blue skunk recovered, shoving her out of the way. Gave Furrball a long look over.

"You're in a state to be making orders, aren't ya?" The skunk challenged. Furrball's ears twitched in recognition of the voice on the phone. Stretching his arm for good measure, Johnny backhanded the cat in the face, sending him crumbling to the floor, his fur soaking up the blood.

"Pimp slapped you like any one of my girlies, including this one." Johnny laughed, pointing at Fifi. Furrball's eyes followed his hand to find Fifi on her knees, wearing a look that made his heart sink. As Johnny took a step closer to the cat, an unexpected challenger stepped out of the shadows.

Sparkz's eyes remained closed as he sniffed around for a moment eventually dodging his father to stand between the blue cat and the blue skunk. Opening his eyes, the kitten crouched slightly, partially covering his own muzzle.

_You need a shower._

Instead of shouting at his son to get back, Furrball couldn't help but laugh, his ribs aching as he did so. Sparkz pounced forward, trying his best to fight on the correct side, as Professor Sly taught him, but there was only so much a young one could do against an adult with no regard for life. As Sparkz was tossed head first into a glass lamp, Furrball slipped in his own blood trying to get up again. Fifi attempted to break a vase over Johnny's head, but the skunk dodged at the last second, grabbing her in a stranglehold.

As Johnny opened the front door, he was still facing Furrball, so the sight of two red nosed, red eyed predators scowling at him from the threshold took a bit of time to have the proper effect as he bumped right into Sylvester.

Slowly turning around, Johnny felt Calamity break his grip on Fifi and then, inevitably, Sylvester broke his arm in three places.

As Calamity reached for his phone, Sylvester stopped him, restraining the skunk from behind, nearly throttling him.

"No cops," Sylvester ordered, smirking. Turning to Fifi and Furrball, he smiled one of his rare smiles. "But he's never gonna bother you again."

Sylvester tried to contain his evil laughter as he stuffed Johnny into his car trunk and then all was quiet once more.

Furrball, seeing his son stirring and the threat gone lay down, a peaceful smile plastered on his face. Then it all went black as the adrenaline faded.

End- Part 6

…_Romantic ceremony, anyone? -_-_


	7. Lime Dream

7. Lime Dream

7. Lime Dream

_His major problem is that his instincts are two-sided. As a feral, he's driven solely by an unknown ambition- to reach an intangible goal, perpetually driven by survival instinct and wanderlust. Though he's also inherently domestic on some level, which means there's a part of him that needs companions and wants nothing more than to have a predictable consistent life with loved ones without surprises. _

_ Essentially, he can never truly be happy with either, and has to make a conscious effort to completely lose one and embrace the other. Obviously the domestic life is what he would choose, but denying his foundation of living in the street is like denying himself for what he really is. Thus, he chooses to live with the guilt, ultimately never completely content as homage to his roots. That's why his smile is always a little sad. _

Fifi put the evaluation down for a third time that morning and sighed, turning her attention from the paper to its subject, whose form hadn't changed in the two weeks they'd been there. The purple skunk took a moment to scan the monitors. Not that she could understand the measurements, but anyone can tell if something's unusual if you look at it for half the day every day. Under the hospital bed a young kitten fidgeted, unconsciously trying to get comfortable as he slept. It was as if Sparkz was forcing himself to sleep even when he wasn't tired in an attempt to connect with his father in Subcon. It seemed to Fifi that the young cat was constantly losing the correct frequency, however.

"Good morning, Ms. Le Fume. Were you able to get some sleep?"

Fifi forced a smile, shaking her head at the nurse as she began her morning routine of changing Furrball's IV among other tasks.

"Looks like you still haven't gotten past the first page," the nurse observed, nodding at the opened folder clutched in the skunk's paws. Fifi closed the folder, quickly. Dr. Melodie had dropped a copy of the Furrball's Psych Eval four days ago but she still couldn't bring herself to finish reading it.

The nurse finished her chores with the cat and walked over to the window closing the blinds. Fifi gave the lady a quizzical look.

"Just in case you doze off in a few," she explained nodding to the bags under the skunk's eyes. Fifi smiled back for a moment before turning her attention back to her lover, who was easily doing what she should have been. Five minutes after the nurse left, her body gave out and she did just that, the eval falling to the floor.

_You got somethin' ta eat? _

_ …_

_ Yo, you got some food? Fish bone? Mouse? Dead bird? Somethin'?_

_ …no._

_ I wasn' gonna steal it, blood. Don't hafta be all uptown penthouse stylin' 'round these parts, a'ight?_

_I was just thinking about something._

_ Yeah I bet you gots a lot on yo mind now._

_…_

_ Pro'lly kickin' yoself in the ass for f'ning that whole Hollywood sh*t up, huh?_

_ …wait, huh?_

_ I mean half of us, yeah we gots ta give you yo props for stayin' a true soldier. But damn, man. You give me the choice, I would've been all "Peace muthas" in a heartbeat ta get off the streets and have a family and sh*t, nowhati'm sayin'?_

_ What?_

_ Hey, that's yo business though, cat. Just don't think the others' gonna roll out a red carpet for you just cuz you slummin' it tryin' ta be one of us again. Cuz you ain't. Not no mo._

_ ?_

As of old, asleep, or even in a coma, a cat from the street is never truly asleep. His ears indicated labored breath from below. Sparkz. And a peculiar, yet subtle snore from the right. Fifi. His other senses indicated that the room was devoid of any conscious life form, so Furrball opened his eyes slowly, trying to keep the monitors at the same level, lest anyone figure out his deception.

The cat swallowed hard, seeing the look of anguish on his bride-to-be's face. He wanted nothing more than to touch her face and let her know that it was all going to be alright, but this was impossible currently. It was pride more than anything. His body refused to budge for the most part. He'd slipped in and out of consciousness at a whim and he couldn't physically **do** anything yet. He didn't want anyone knowing he was aware of the state he was in until he was strong enough to move on his own accord again. Then he'd open his eyes and the clichéd 'miraculous recovery' would jumpstart their way to the altar.

The altar.

Another reason he'd stayed away from contact outside his head. There was no doubt in his mind, his feelings for Fifi…. But his subconscious had been subjecting him to various scenarios of a life he'd all but forgotten and acquaintances he'd rather have not made leading to conversations that indicated imminent failure of his life in the norm.

Furrball's thoughts led to the reason he was incapacitated in the first place. He had to catch the roar churning in his belly before it reached his throat. In a fair fight, he'd have…

"_Everything's fair in a fight, blood_."

The words put him off-balance, just before he started to hate the canine species exclusively. Those words… they'd haunted him every so often. Came from the Manx he was locked up with for half a month in the pound as a kitten. Furrball couldn't even remember the cat's name, but his body still had ghost pains whenever it snowed, as it remembered how the Manx had tortured him every minute they'd spent together. Yes, all animals were cruel when they wanted to be. Not just the dogs.

He felt it coming; tried to fight it, but it was too strong. His body told him to go back to sleep. He didn't want to in this state. It wasn't advisable to go to sleep recalling shady visions of an old nemesis. And yet, just as he'd been in the cage and in the more recently, in the van, Furrball was powerless to stop the sleep from coming.

Fifi's eyes shot open almost exactly when Furrball's shut. Wiping the cold sweat from her forehead, Fifi leaned over Furrball for a moment. Sighing for the fiftieth time that week, she sat back in her chair, checking on Sparkz for a moment. The skunk had a vision in her sleep that followed her to her conscious state. Pausing for a moment, she decided to confess to her love even if he couldn't hear. Perhaps _because_ he couldn't hear.

"I did a few commercials our senior year," she began, as it all slowly came back to her. "Met a few producers, much better networking than I would've had just going to class."

Fifi looked to see if her voice had brought about a change in the cat. As usual, there was nothing. Sighing for the fifty-_first_ time, she continued. "I had this supporting role lined up in a feature Michigan. They said I didn't even have to do a reading to get the part. I just had to show up," Fifi's face darkened as a shadow seemed to fall on Furrball.

"The studio had gone belly-up three hours before I even got off the bus. That was about the time when mom and dad were talking about actually separating and dad invested most of the money in Haiti. I was counting on the film to pay my bills, so when I returned to California, I was flat-broke."

A nurse walked by, pausing at the door. Fifi forced a smile and the nurse continued on her rounds.

"I didn't worry too much, since I knew there were jobs in California. But all of a sudden, all my contacts didn't want anything to do with me. Every time I went to try out, I was cut almost before I even finished my readings…" Fifi's voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper now.

"So I was standing outside a department store, wondering if I should try to get a normal job when _he_ showed up." The skunk paused, waiting to see if the feline would give a reaction. She waited a few minutes just to be safe.

"I told him about my problems and my plans to work in the mall or something. He laughed and said he had an escort service and would pay me more than I could ever make in a film. I told him to get lost, then he swore he'd treat me right. No touching, no nothing, you know? And for some reason…" The skunk buried her face in her paws until realization hit her. "…I'll bet he had some dirt on those casting directors and had my career sabotaged from the start…" The skunk stood up, pulling the blinds, letting the light penetrate the room.

_Glancing at the watch of a sitting commuter, the young cat sighed quietly to himself. 11:30. That meant the ceremony had already started. Not that he cared… the cat's eyes landed on the rolled up piece of thick paper for the sixth time since he'd gotten on the red line. He wondered why he'd even bothered to swipe it before slipping away. What the hell good was a diploma going to do someone like him, anyway? _

_ Furrball took a moment to scan the car. Ever since the stop at Santa Monica, he'd felt eyes on him from somewhere. No one was really watching him, though. Probably wishful thinking on his part. The metro stopped for MacArthur Park and Furrball started to get out, giving the car one last glance. _

_As fate would have it, it wasn't until he stepped out of the car that they even locked eyes. _

_Wasn't until the door did the first fake close that he realized her facial features were incredibly familiar._

_Wasn't until the door closed for the last time that they reached out to touch one another when the car took off for good. _

_The cat stayed, plastered in that spot on the platform for the rest of the day on the odd chance that she'd show up somehow. When the metro rent-a-cop showed up to tell him to leave, Furrball was beside himself._

"_The hell you waitin' for? Go home, already."_

_What the hell indeed. _

_M-m-ma?_

It was inevitable, His body wanted his mind to stop pretending and now he was caught.

"What was that, _chéri_?"

Furrball opened his eyes to find Fifi calmly stroking his brow. It confused him, really. He'd expected her to go into conniptions. This was too calm. Too surreal too.

"N-nothing," he managed before letting his thoughts streamline him into the oblivion of self-pity.

Fifi stretched a bit, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

"Welcome back," she continued, feeling the warmth of his cheek. "You were crying in your sleep. Must have been a sad dream."

"Nah, I just missed you, that's all."

Summoning all his strength, the cat raised his head and flexed his shoulders, allowing him to sit up in bed, unassisted. The skunk stood wide-eyed, visibly impressed.

"What's that?" Furrball nodded to a huge get-well card resting on a tripod at the foot of his bed.

"What's it look like, silly?" Fifi retrieved the card, opening it for the patient to see. A cluster of signatures, incoherent notes and doodles covered the paper front and back. Furrball scanned the writing, but his confused expression didn't wane.

"It's a get-well card," Fifi explained, pointing to a few signatures.

"Everyone has been worried sick about you. Even Plucky's been here five times!"

"For what?" Legitimate confusion dripped from his voice.

"To see you get better! What else?"

_I dunno, pull the plug?_

"Hmm?"

"Nothin'," Furrball looked away, feeling guilty about his quiet cynicism.

Four weeks of rehab made Furrball strong enough to walk completely unassisted. The couple had postponed the wedding to the weekend after his rehab had finished; neither one wanted Furrball to be using a walker to make his way down the aisle. While the physical therapy clinic focused on the cat's physical health, Sylvester tried his hand at the feline's mental stability. It was plain as day to see how dejected Furrball was becoming day by day. Most chocked it up to his inability to protect his love but this wasn't the case at all. Another thing was causing his despondency…something much more complex than damaged pride. The tuxedo cat knew it well…it was ultimately something he'd have to go through on his own and there wasn't much time left for the cat's consciousness to discover the weight that was mounting on his mind.

Of course, Fifi had been a good sport about it, as usual, knowing what to expect from Furrball and when to give him space. After all, it wasn't as if she were marrying Hamton. But still… it'd taken its toll. The marriage was meant to mend this, heal all and turn them into something new altogether. That was the truth Fifi had to believe in… had to bet on. The only truth either one of them had left. And at the end of the day, it wasn't too hard to grasp onto. It seemed utterly impossible that all they'd been through and all the changes they'd both made had truly been for naught. Unfathomable, really.

_Really._

_Go ahead and leave with Professor Sly, I'll catch up with you at the church, okay? And don't forget what you promised._

_ 'No slashing the guests that call me adorable.'_

_ That's right. Now go ahead, because you've got a huge job today, Mr. Ring Bearer._

_ Can I be a ring cat instead? I'm not a bear. _

_ Get going, wise-guy. _

_ Okay, papa. Sarang hae!_

_ Love you too, Sparkz._

_ Papa?_

_ Yeah?_

_ You look like a penguin in those clothes._

_ Yeah?_

_ It's not bad, though._

_ Thanks, kiddo. Now get goin' ya hear?_

_ Yessir!_

The blue cat smiled as his young charge scrambled out the door, leaving him to his thoughts once again. Fifi was already waiting. She and Shirley had left that morning to coordinate wardrobes, whatever that meant. He'd only caught a quick glimpse of her before she left but she seemed to be glowing as she walked. Calamity was already at the church as well, directing the ushers and such. All he was supposed to do was show up and say 'I do.' Simple enough.

Furrball stepped outside as soon as he heard Sylvester's tires screeching for the second time. It was time to walk the chosen path.

It was a good fifty-five minute walk to get to the church, which would have taken about five minutes by car, factoring in streetlights and stop signs. The world was constantly in fast forward to get to nowhere and there was still a very predominant portion of Furrball's personality that resented this. Setting off on a backstreet, the feline felt a tad strange and out of place, all dressed up. Taking in his surroundings with all the cat's senses, Furrball was suddenly grateful that he'd been a stray growing up in uptown Fresno rather than a slum like this place. The streets are the streets to those not from the streets, but the difference are as clear as night and day to a survivor.

Spying a half-broken fire escape ladder near him, Furrball couldn't resist the urge to jump to it pulling himself up to the platform with a flip for good measure. Surveying the area, he noticed a fellow feline in the distance, backing up against a dead-end. Scaling up the gutter drain to a higher level, Furrball crept to the end of the building to get a closer look. He found it odd that he couldn't detect the other feline's scent in the least bit. What he **could** sense, set him on edge however. Three menacing bull dogs, seemingly equally in the dark about the cat's smell haphazardly closed in on it, boxing the feline into the alley.

Groaning, Furrball grabbed the ledge in frustration. There wasn't any time to be playing public defender. That's when the felines made eye contact. The blue cat was immediately awe-struck. Something piercing emitted from the other's lime-green eyes that caused Furrball's knees to begin knocking. He then noticed the tail which seemed to be at least two lengths longer than the silver cat's body. Furrball cocked his head as the other seemed to be asking what he was waiting for as the dogs closed in further. Pulling a loose bar from the fire escape, he tossed it towards the dogs, knocking over a nearby trash can, causing a huge din. This distraction gave the other just enough time to maneuver past the canines to initiate the pursuit.

Moments later, all of the animals were nothing more than a faint memory as their barks and meow faded into the more prevalent sounds of the city. Furrball sighed, dangling his legs over the edge of the platform, only to find that the top button on his tuxedo had broken off and committed suicide.

"CAW! CAW!"

The noise startled the blue cat so much that he nearly fell off the railing, going the way of his button. Furrball instinctively swung at the nearby crow who didn't even bat an eye lid. The black bird stared at him, eyes narrowing as if to ask the cat what he was waiting for.

_ I don't have tim-…_

If the blue one had learned one thing from living on the streets it was that arguing with yourself is the first step in accomplishing nothing. Growling slightly as he picked himself up, Furrball took off in the general direction of the chase.

It didn't take long to find the pursuit. The dogs reeked something awful and continuously knocked over cans and other items as they hunted the long-tailed feline. Furrball had opted to take the high road, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, keeping up rather effectively in the process. When the chase led to a second alley, the quarry suddenly lost its footing, skidding into a wall and twisted an ankle. The canines, in hot pursuit, wasted no time in capitalizing on their good fortune, methodically slowing down and flanking out, causing the cat to hobbled down the alley. Furrball gasped, seeing no real way for the cat to escape this time and started making his way down to the ground level. The other cat limped into an open dumpster in a last-ditch effort to hide, but the dogs were not fooled by this, dropping the huge door shut with the feline inside. Furrball cringed, remembering the horrible feeling of being trapped in a dumpster and quickened his step as the dogs took turns ramming the receptacle with the cat inside for good measure. Without a second thought, Furrball leapt down atop the dumpster, crouching low, eyes narrowing, daring the dogs to smash into the garbage another time. The bulldogs stopped in their tracks, sizing the blue feline up for a second. Before Furrball could plan his next move, he felt heavy paws on his back as a canine knocked him to the dirty floor, landing on his back. He felt the tuxedo ripping slightly in the back and tried to turn over, but the canine was too heavy and stamped his shoulder blade, seemingly aware that it was still healing. Furrball gritted his teeth looking up to find the two others grinning maliciously at him. Instinct started to kick in as the cat began to lose control of his actions.

_Caught me on a bad day._

Sinking his claws deep into a paw that held him down, Furrball tossed the first mutt into the others a leaped to his feet, allowing the momentum to sling shot him past the three, claws drawn. Blood sprayed by at a half second delay as the canines knelt down, all cut by Furrball's claws. Looking over his shoulder as his television counterpart would have done after a duel, Furrball snarled, causing the three dogs to scamper away, tails between their legs. Furrball looked down noticing that his pants were also now torn up at the ends.

"Damn it," he murmured to himself, approaching the closed dumpster. It took most of the cat's strength to pry the dumpster open and the odor emitting from the receptacle made him nauseous. Only nightmares; no fond memories were associated with the smell and the cat hesitated to inspect the garbage when the other feline didn't immediately emerge from it. After ten minutes of rummaging through the container, Furrball realized that he was alone. The other had disappeared somehow. Could it have opened the door from the inside and escaped unnoticed so quickly during the duel? Highly unlikely… Furrball looked down at his watch noticing he didn't have time to be pondering this. Searching around wildly, he headed for a public fountain as he discarded what was left of his monkey suit.

The End- Part 7

_Guess i lied. i felt it necessary to split the ending into two chapters after all. Didn't want this chapter getting too long, splitting the focus of the conclusion… Sorry it's taking so long to get the ending, but i REALLY want to work out well, so it's taking a lot longer than i had anticipated… Chapter 8 should be coming soon since i know exactly how it'll finish now… unless something else changes?_


	8. Barefoot

8. Barefoot

Sharp feline eyes absorbed details of the establishment. The cat was about to enter a kind of building he'd never paid any attention to, among dozens of other types. And yet as he stared at the large bell below the steeple, he became more and more intrigued, wondering why he'd never looked twice at a church before in his life. Before he could take a moment to appreciate the fine stained glasswork, the side door opened up.

"Houston, we have a huge problem!"

Furrball looked over to see Plucky and Calamity racing over to him. The two of them looked over his disheveled form then exchanged glances.

"Annex?" Plucky suggested. Calamity nodded, grabbing one of the cat's wrists as Plucky grabbed the other. They raced to the church annex as fast as they could, lest they be seen by the wedding guests.

"Seriously, Furrball. Leave it to you, stripping down to go dumpster diving five minutes before your wedding." Plucky remarked, causing the feline to look up. Before he could punch the green mallard, he noticed that Plucky had stripped down to his boxers.

"Wh-" the cat stammered.

"In the words of my mentor," Plucky announced, pausing a bit for emphasis, "'Fortunately I always carry a spare." The duck tossed his tuxedo to Furrball, revealing a hideous purple zoot suit.

Out of respect for the kind gesture, nobody, including Sylvester, commented on the duck's choice of backup attire. Even Lil Beeper managed to stifle his chuckle. Calamity clapped his hands twice, pointing to his watch, then the door.

"You're right, Cal. Sam's getting paid by the hour so he'll start playing on time even if we're not there!" Buster observed. Just as the group started for the door, a lavender Tasmanian devil blocked their path. Eyes narrowing, Dizzy spun directly towards Furrball, giving the cat twenty or so revolutions, finally stopping to reveal a bottle of cologne. Grinning, Dizzy sniffed the cat.

"Now you smell like groom, not old broom!"

…

It was almost comical how accurate Buster's prediction was. Sam the Sheepdog had already started playing the wedding march as the gang rolled in. Because of the timing and scheduling conflicts there hadn't even been a real dress rehearsal. Furrball tried to focus ahead as he was rushed past the pews but the strange architecture held his interest, as did the disturbing image of a man hanging on two planks of wood above the altar.

All of a sudden, the cat realized that only he and Calamity were rushing to the altar as his group thinned out with the rest of them taking their seats in the pews.

"Your timing is impeccable, young cat," the priest whispered as the two took their places. Furrball was unable to dignify this with a response as he turned to face the aisle. He noticed Dr. Melodie and Nurse Shannon sitting on his side. There was also what seemed like a family of cats he didn't know. Fifi's side of the church was completely full, but aside from the faces from school, he couldn't recognize anyone.

Calamity wiped the feline's forehead with his handkerchief and the two exchanged grins. As the doors opened, the bridesmaids processed through the aisle, tossing violet and orchid petals on the carpet.

Moments later, the entire church broke into a collective "Awww!" as the ring bearer showed his face. No one could really tell how he was able to balance the pillow on his stump as he walked confidently, keeping his red eye on the rings and his green eye on his father. Furrball glanced down at Sylvester who smirked back. It was probably for the best that the little one's listening comprehension hadn't been his strong point, as he was unable to distinguish the high-pitched "Adorable!" and "Cute as a button!" comments.

When the kitten finally made it to the front and stood to the side, the organ got louder and the guests all took to their feet. Fifi appeared with Shirley at the end of the aisle, donned in an ivory gown with French lace and no veil. She had a look of a horrified child until her eyes settled upon the love of her life. As the two friends began their slow procession down the aisle, Fifi heart pounded faster and faster, until she could hold it no longer. Shirley could read her intentions and took the bouquet from her as Fifi sprinted up the aisle only to find that Furrball had the same thing in mind and raced to meet her half-way. The two embraced, kissing with a passion that caused the stars to pause for a moment, wondering if a supernova had occurred.

"Hey you two…" The priest started, causing the kiss to come to an end. The couple gave him the exact same surly look as they walked hand-in-hand to the altar, their expressions melting into ecstasy soon after.

"Dearly beloved," the priest began, proceeding to preach for some time about the sanctity of marriage and blessing of commitment. Furrball tried his best to keep his eyes forward and focus on the words, but often found himself looking longingly at Fifi. The skunk, of course was no better.

" I believe you'll have to sit and watch the DVD of this later so you won't forget what I've said," the priest commented as he wrapped up his sermon, causing the two to blush. Handing the microphone to Furrball, the priest squeezed his paw, before the trembling could start. Fifi looked quizzically at the two as Furrball went down the steps.

Wobbling slightly as he held up the mic, Furrball looked up, gazing into Fifi's eyes as the entire church fell silent, wondering what would happen next.

"Oh….my love…my darling…

I've hungered for your touch…

A long…..lonely time…"

It was probably the last thing anyone would have expected… an a cappella rendition of "Unchained Melody" from the shiest student at the Looniversity. It was clear as day that singing put considerable strain on the cat's vocal cords, but the results reduced Fifi to tears of joy, and oddly enough meriting a standing ovation from the entire church, which caused the feline to flinch as he sheepishly handed the mic back to the priest, returning to his place. The cat glanced down at Sparkz, whose wide-eyed look of awe and admiration clued him into the fact that he hadn't blown it after all. Calamity patted his friend on the shoulder, knowingly.

"And now…" the priest began, straightening up, turning the focus to himself once more, "Do you, Furrball Fuego-Torres take Fifi Le Fume as your lawfully wedded wife?

to have, to hold,

to Heaven, not Hell,

to help, not hit,

to heal, not hurt,

through hustle and bustle,

in pain, staying sane

keep her safe without haste

for as long as you both shall live?

Furrball turned to face his love. "I do," he stated with fervor.

"And do you, Fifi Le Fume take Furrball Fuego-Torres

In richer or poorer,

Through mountains or valleys,

In deserts without desserts,

From A.M. to P.M.,

In mayhem and flu season

To the ends of the ink

And as long as you think

For as long as you both shall live?

Fifi returned Furrball's loving gaze. "I do," she spoke, her voice cracking.

"Do you have the rings?"

Furrball retrieved the rings from Sparkz, mussing his son's hair as he did. The young kitten smiled proudly then ran off to join Sylvester, trying his best not to protract his claws as the "Aww" chorus reprieved their mantra.

The two exchanged rings, slowly sliding the shiny silver onto each other's fingers.

"Then if anyone should have any cause why these two should not marry, let them speak now or forever hold their peace!"

Sylvester, Sparkz, Dizzy and all the bridesmaids stood up, looking around, daring anyone to say something with their eyes, subduing the least bit of resistance that might have emerged.

"Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man-err **cat** and wife. You may now kiss the bride… again."

Neither one needed a second invitation and embraced one another as if they hadn't seen each other in years. Sam had to start playing the wedding march to get the two to let go long enough for Shirley and Calamity to nudge them down the aisle together. The whole world seemed to be spinning as the newlyweds made their way out of the church. Furrball was most unprepared for being pelted with rice and would have bore his fangs had it not been for the occasion.

Making it to Fifi's now souped up DeVille, the two gave the crowd one last wave. Furrball hopped into the front seat, noticing that Fifi was no longer waving, but focused on something. He waved his paw in front of her face, causing the skunk to flash him a look of concern as she closed her door. Without a word, they drove off towards the reception while the guests followed suit, with no one actually noticing the u-turn the lead car did to arrive at the back parking lot of the church moments later.

Furrball remained silent as the skunk turned off the engine. She was visibly shaken and seemed to want to drive off as much as she wanted to stay put. Taking her paws from the steering wheel into his own, the cat smiled as her pressed her paws against his heart. The two sat there as resolved as a statue for a time before Fifi summoned up the courage to exit the vehicle. The feline followed suit and they faced the back entrance of the church together.

"Is it **him**?"

Her husband's voice seemed to startle Fifi. She could barely nod when the back door opened, revealing an aging skunk donned in a tattered suit that had been mended ten times too many, but appeared to be the only scrap of clothing he had. Furrball couldn't help but step in front of his wife, not comfortable with the distance between father and daughter. The skunk let out an 'I've seen it all' laugh, sizing the cat up, completely ignoring his daughter as he approached.

"Not much to look at, are ya?" The skunk spit on the ground, walking over to Furrball's flank. "_Komon ou ye, Fife_?"

"_N'ap boule,_" the bride murmured before she could stop herself. It was more of an automated response than anything else.

"You'll have to pardon my Creole, kid. Don't speak much English these days," the skunk's tone softened a bit, but Furrball refused to let down his guard.

"We French know a thing or two about love," he continued amused by the cat's level of alertness. "Not exactly a great first impression, you showin' up late to your own wedding and all."

The cat's eyes narrowed as they locked with those of his father-in law. After a moment the skunk had to turn away, visibly impressed that he could be stared down by a younger one.

"The way you kissed my daughter, though… makes me embarrassed that I never was able to do it like that to my wife. A kiss like that don't lie."

The skunk turned his back to the newlyweds and Fifi pulled on her husband's arm, leading him back to the car. Just before they entered, the skunk spoke once more.

"_Chak jou pa Dimanch._"

Furrball gave his wife a questioning look as she started to giggle. Turning to face his elder again, Furrball's heart skipped a beat. He was staring straight into the barrel of a small silver pistol. Throwing his arms apart to shield his wife, Furrball scowled as the skunk took aim, firing.

BING!

The bullet missed the cat by at least a meter, settling into grass in the distance. The cat growled, ears flattened, claws protracted as he prepared to rush forward. Instead, the skunk tossed the piece to him, a determined look on his face as well. Catching the pistol, Furrball noticed it only had room for a single bullet.

"You break her heart, and I won't miss next time," the skunk said walking away. "Love is a Derringer, kitten. Ya only get one shot." With that, he disappeared back into the church leaving the two alone in the parking lot. Furrball looked at his wife, then the gun. They both shrugged as they got in, driving off to the reception.

Arriving in the parking lot of the convention center, Furrball had finally managed to take the firing pin out of the pistol, a necessary precaution, lest a certain one-pawed kitten happen upon it in the future. As Fifi began to exit, the cat touched her thigh, stopping her in her tracks.

"Chack oh… wha-?"

It took Fifi a moment to register the inquiry. "_'Chak jou pa Dimanch'_," she recited slowly, looking out the window. "Not every day is Sunday."

"…"

"It basically means luck doesn't last forever."  
Furrball got out of the car, not really acknowledging that he understood the implications of the comment. One would like to think he took it as a compliment, knowing his unlucky days were behind him… Opening the skunk's door, the feline offered his arm, which she gladly accepted.

After taking a couple a steps out of the parking lot, the cat felt the fur on the back of his neck raise, tingling a bit. Spinning around, he saw a vaguely familiar young skunk with goth dreds standing very still, like a mime, with his head bowed next to a Range Rover. It took Furrball a moment to register who it was.

"R to the C?"

The skunk looked up for a moment, ears perking before they suddenly went limp again, along with his expression.

"It's 'Dark Scent' now, if you will," he replied, furiously trying to fit into this role.

"R-Rockee?" Fifi stammered, disturbed at the prospect of seeing the teen's chaperone. "What's with the new look?"  
"I welcome it with open arms," came a voice from right. "He's far quieter these days as a result."

All three sets of eyes turned towards Fifi's aunt Inès getting out of the passenger's side. Fifi wasted no time putting up the defenses.

"I don't remember inviting _you_ here."

"And _I_ don't remember you even telling me how serious you two were."

Inès strode past her niece stopping a few feet from Furrball. The cat eyed the neatly wrapped box in her hand. Without a word, she offered the package to the feline, paws shaking as he reluctantly accepted it, still refusing to make eye contact with the older skunk. Furrball glanced over at Fifi, as if to ask what he should do. She shrugged. Sighing, he opened the present, revealing a butcher knife in a wooden box. Taken aback by the gesture, the cat's eyes seemed the glow red as he finally faced the skunk.

Inès shook her head, looking away.

"I wish it were a hatchet," she stated weakly. "Then we could bury it together."

Throughout his life, Furrball had learned to read the souls of many an individual, rarely, if ever allowing personal feelings betray his internal radar. He hadn't expected such words from someone like Inès. Not in a million years.

Inès was quite happy with escaping as the cat ran his fingers thoughtfully across the handle that had struck him in the back in their last encounter. As Furrball touched the cold steel, however, he addressed his younger in-law.

"Got a shovel, D to the S?"

Rockee gave Furrball a look of genuine admiration. Whether it was for modifying his new nickname or returning the gesture to his mother was unclear, though it didn't merit further scrutiny, as Rockee, forgetting his adopted persona raced to the trunk to retrieve the tool. Inès, equally shocked was beside herself as the cat began digging a hole under the shade of a willow tree. As for Fifi, a wave of emotions flooded her mind as she watched the actions transpire. She was impressed by her husband's willingness to forgive and saddened that she, too couldn't yet find it in herself to be as reciprocal.

As the feline dig out the last bit of dirt, he and Rockee grinned at the females standing across from one another, still and silent as corpses. Furrball turned to Rockee to ask a question.

"What's blood supposed to be thicker than?"

Rockee smiled from ear to ear.

"Water."

Furrball placed the box on the ground next to the hole, walking over to the SUV and taking a seat on the hood. Rockee followed suit.

"We made the hole, now it's up to you two to cover it up," the cat announced, allowing his paws to dangle lazily over the side. The ladies looked at the box, then one another. It was clear from Inès' expression that sge wouldn't budge until Fifi made the first step. This indicated to Fifi that her aunt had only come to mend things with her husband, causing the stalemate to linger for a time. Eventually, Rockee cleared his throat.

"You know, some kid could…"

"…with his only paw," Furrball added, causing the standoff to end. Fifi gritted her teeth, let out a sigh, then took her aunt's paw in hers.

"_Votre mari est incroyable_," Inès managed, feeling the slight warmth of her niece's paw. Fifi finally wore an expression worthy of a bride on her wedding day.

"Of course he's incredible," she whispered, laying the first clump of dirt on the box. As the box disappeared, Furrball's smile beam brighter. Regardless of the intent, circumstances or length of the gesture, for a moment specism was a concept removed from his vocabulary. His burden felt a noticeable amount lighter.

"Let's go before they start to leave the reception," he announced as the hole disappeared for good. Taking Fifi's paw in one and offering his other to his aunt-in-law, the cat smirked.

"Don't think you can run off that quickly."

Finally allowing herself to grin back at her new nephew, Inès accepted the blue paw.

Nobody, including a certain inebriated green mallard, asked the newlyweds about their slightly dusty threads. If nothing else, it seemed to enhance their character, though Plucky _did_ nearly slip up commenting to Hamton that _he_ certainly wasn't going to be the one to get the tux dry-cleaned.

Going through their initial rounds, meeting and greeting the guests at their tables, they noticed Sparkz sitting with Dr. Alva's family, the one-eyed bandito included in the fold. Nurse Shannon had opted to sit with them as well, feeling a bit out of place with so few of her own species present. Furrball felt sorry for the discomfort he read on her face, but couldn't suppress the evil thought of the tipped scale of justice from invading his psyche. The cat shook away the smirk that was beginning to form on his lips as he accepted the congratulations from those at the table.

Even Milo seemed in good spirits, though Furrball guessed it was more because he could see Sparkz again. The thought warmed him from the inside; his son having a friend, probably even a best friend. Something he'd never experienced as a kitten. Turning his direction to his partner he read in her eyes that she could read his mind. The two kissed, moving on.

As they came to the end of the room, Fifi nudged her husband, pulling his ear close.

"Who are they, _love_?"

Furrball grinned. He loved it when she tried out her Catonese. Noticing the object of her inquisition, the feline scratched his head. That same family of cats from the wedding on his side were standing around, looking at their shoes. Furrball shrugged, looking over at Calamity, who did the same. Slowly approaching the group, as he would on the streets, the blue cat addressed the queen, as the tom seemed very skittish.

_Hello._

The entire group tensed up, causing Furrball to back away slightly. He looked at Fifi, a bit puzzled.

"Maybe they don't speak Catonese…"

Furrball stared at his wife, wondering at her words.

"W-w-w-we d-d-d-do," the female spoke up, eyes still diverted. Fifi stared at the cat, her stutter instantly reminding her of Furrball's now extinct impediment.

"I don't think we've met before," Furrball found speaking English to be slightly more comfortable in this situation for some reason.

_No, we haven't. We're sorry to have crashed your wedding._

"It's fine, really. The more the merrier and all. Although may I ask who you are?"

_This is my mate, Vicente. I'm Calisto. These are our kittens, Branca, Simao and Carmelo._

"Nice to meet you. This is my wife, Fifi and I'm-"

_We know who you are._

"…Yes, of course, you were at the wedding, after all." Furrball squeezed his wife's paw. She smiled at him, trying her best to keep up. It was like trying understand a whole phone conversation while only hearing one speaker talk.

_Vicente was in trouble with the law for the longest time, especially after I got pregnant._

"Here, let's sit down. I insist," Furrball spoke up, pointing to the nearby empty table. Reluctantly, the family complied, aside from Vicente, who still looked very ashamed of himself for some reason.

"That's better," Furrball said, surprised to hear himself directing and even speaking so much in a single setting. "Now, you were saying?"

_We needed food and there wasn't enough to scavenge. Vicente, he's from Amazônia, so when he arrived here, he didn't know any better._

"Wait, as in The Amazon?"

_Yes. He is from Brasil. Wanted to raise our family in a traditional setting so we stayed in a park. Supported the two of us by stealing and fighting. _

Furball looked at Vicente who still hadn't moved. His patience was wearing thin on finding out why they had come, but he chose to not press the matter.

_He was always in trouble with the law, but when I got pregnant with these three, he jumped bail._

At the mention of "bail", Furrball's ears perked and his mind started revving at a million miles a minute. Fifi could scarcely contain her own patience, noticing the look on her husband drastically change.

_This bounty hunter caught him one day. He had a horrible reputation for his treatment of bail jumpers. But when he caught Vicente, he was actually gentle with him. He ended up giving us the money he made from the job, plus some more to me to help support our kittens. Before he left, he made sure I was safe for the time Vicente was locked away which ended up being a lot shorter than expected, which I think had something to do with him as well. Now Vicente has a job and he's really cleaned up… we live in a nice, roomy tree house not too far from here._

"So the bounty hunter was…"

_Benicio Fuego-Torres. Your father, no doubt._

Vicente finally reared his head looking up at the newlyweds.

"You didn't know him well, but he told me he didn't want my kids growing up without a father. He was a good cat. You need to know that." Vicente's voice was soft, carrying a similar accent to Benicio's. He revealed two neatly wrapped boxes, handing the larger one to Fifi and the smaller to Furrball. Fifi opened hers to find a black snub-nosed revolver with the cylinder missing. She cocked her head, confused by the gesture.

"Benicio gave it to my wife for protection while I was away."

The adults took turns embracing, all run out words. As the family started to get up to leave, Fifi nodded to the three little angels.

"They look hungry. Stay for a while, won't you?"

Before it was time to cut the cake, Shirley and Babs whisked Fifi away, citing that they had to freshen up the bride for her first dance. Furrball shrugged as the females disappeared. Looking around, he noticed Sylvester and Sparkz staring a hole into him. Curiosity piqued, he made his way over to them. Arriving at the table, seeing the open bottles, the blue cat a tingle of déjà vu.

"We have to borrow the groom for a moment," Sylvester announced, getting up. Wrapping an arm around Furrball's shoulder, the black cat led him to the exit. The way they were walking, it was hard not to compare them to father and son. Sparkz followed suit along with Tres.

Outside and away prying eyes, the cats surrounded Furrball, making it feel all the more uncomfortable.

_You were late!_

Sparkz beat Sylvester to the punch, citing the reason for the sudden animosity.

_You were fighting again, weren't you?_

Furrball looked at Sylvester wide-eyed at the sudden realization. This wasn't the right way to start out a marriage. He'd taken a huge risk without even thinking about it. And yet…

_Couldn't have been Johnny. That's for __**damn**__ sure._

The twisted expression on Sylvester's was almost enough for Furrball to inquire the condition of the skunk, though he refrained. The less one knows about something like that, the better.

_Leave 'im alone already. It's obvious he was kicking some canine ass!_

The pequeño activista piped up, having no love lost for the canine kind. Furrball frowned. Tres wasn't exactly the best influence on his son, and yet he'd hit the bull's eye, leaving little room for a high horse.

_Look, whatever the case is, you have __**got**__ to stop playing 'Little Blue Vigilante'. You're married now, for cryin' out loud. _

_I have a question._

Furrball spoke as if he hadn't even heard the chastisement, remembering a strange detail.

_Have you ever come across a cat without a scent before?_

Sylvester, Sparkz and Tres exchanged glances. As if choreographed, they burst out in exaggerated laughter at the same time.

_Yeah, yeah. With silver fur and a super long tail, eh?_

Furrball's eyes dilated in amazement, staring at Tres.

_…What?_

There was nothing phony about the blue cat's expression, which prompted another round of looks.

_And lime green eyes._

Furrball added to the description, kneeling down before Tres.

_How did you know?_

Sylvester, being the oldest, was more skeptical than the others.

_Stop playing. Don't tell me you've never heard of Zhaxmio before._

The blue cat drew a blank.

_How could you not know?_

_ Papa wasn't raised by anyone, I think, right? It was years before he even met another cat._

_ Then how'd he learn Catonese?  
The pound._

Furrball addressed the three, still confused.

_What's a Zhaxmio?_

_ Sparkz?_

_ …Can we even talk about her?_

_ As long as you only do it in Catonese._

_ Oh._

_ Well?_

_ Zhaxmio… she's like a spirit, right? She watches over the poor cats in the world, kind of like a protector. She's really shy as the legend goes and no one ever rally sees her unless she needs them to._

_ Why can you only talk about her in Catonese?_

_ Not only that, but only to other cats from the street. If you mention her in a foreign tongue to another species, during the next crescent moon, you'll be dead._

_ …_

_ But it's just a story, right?_

_ Just because you might be able to survive getting hit by lightening doesn't mean you should run outside in a thunderstorm wearing metal pants, kid._

_ True, true._

_ Is there supposed to be a reason for her to see me?_

_ Did she look at you?_

Furrball frowned. Sylvester grabbed him by the collar.

_What happened?_

_ I saw these three dogs chasing her into an alley. I helped her out and she looked me in the eye from a distance. _

The other cats fell silent, staring intently at Furrball.

_What does that mean? She kind of disappeared when I scared the dogs off._

_ You're… you're no longer under her protection now. _

_ Which means…_

_ She's going to take away what you needed to stay alive on the streets._

_ …Why? _

_ Because that would keep you from being happy as a …domestic._

_ …_

_ You can't ever mention this to Fifi, of course. Or anyone else. _

_ Have you ever seen her? _

_ Of course not! She's very selective._

Sylvester produced a switchblade, handing it to Furrball.

"Everyone's throwing guns and knives at me today!"

"It's for your protection," the black cat explained, oblivious to the lack of hyperbole. "You no longer have nine lives anymore. Not that I really believe all that s-s-s-superstitious s-s-s-stuff."

Furrball smiled, handing the knife back to his elder.

"Still have these," he declared, brandishing his claws. The four walked silently back to the reception, Sylvester smiling to himself, having a newfound respect for his protégé.

Koyangi Quest -Episode 01 (season 2)

A thin blanket of rolling fog brushes past the countryside, giving the landscape a swishing effect. It is yet unclear whether the time is dusk or dawn, as the light of the sun seems all but apparent. Silhouettes of hills of a varying degree of sizes stand guard on the horizon as figure of humble proportions trudges forward, slowly becoming distinguishable.

On his belt, a short sword randomly catches the light. His paeraengi awkwardly balances atop the cat's head, obviously having finished its last days as a proper head covering years ago. A neutral expression suggesting the feline's placid aspiration is difficult to miss on his face as he pushes a makeshift buggy along, its contents concealed at the present.

As the sun greets the worn feline from top to bottom, the cat stops to appreciate the impressive scenery around him. Wrinkling his nose, the feline's eyes dart around, indicating his situational awareness. Tossing his hat to the ground, the lone traveler draws his blade.

HIGHWAYMAN 1

Toll time, kitty kitty!

A pack of five striped hyenas wielding heavy clubs surround the traveler. The cat is uncharacteristically on edge for some reason.

HIGHWAYMAN 3

We'll start by taking whatever ya got in the

rolling basket over there. Don't be stupid.

One of the thieves reaches for the carriage, causing the cat to draw his sword, cutting the hyena's arm. As the feline outmaneuvers two of the others, a third attack smashes his club on the cat's back, knocking him face first in the dirt. Kicking the cat's blade away, the bleeding hyena squats down over the feline, sitting on his back. Pulling the cat's head up roughly, he whispers into the cat's ear.

HIGHWAYMAN 1

Would've just knocked ya out, but

Now we're gonna club ya to a pulp, kitty kitty.

The others are too distracted watching their leader taunt their fallen victim to see a one-pawed kitten emerged from the carriage with a telescoping spear in hand. The kitten jabs his blade into the leader's head without hesitation, causing the hyena to fall off of the cat. Wasting no time, the blue cat reaches out, retrieving his blade.

…

_Although both verbally articulated how cheesy and stereotypical a Hawaiian honeymoon would be, both secretly loved the idea of a trip to Honolulu. Fifi, previously unknown to her husband was actually an avid surfer in her younger days, even having won a number of competitions in Huntington Beach. Furrball, on the other hand was not a fan of the ocean in any sense of the word, but had always been fascinated by sand dunes. Young Sparkz, who was from an island, had never actually set foot on a beach before, let alone a hotel resort. Thus, the young family headed for Waikiki._

_For the majority of the first day, they spent most of their time waiting in line or dodging random reporters, hungry for the scoop of a possible new power couple. Season one of Furrball's show had yet to air, which meant it was entirely possible that they wouldn't be completely swamped the entire time. The sun was simply too hot to brave the beach in the daytime and __**way**__ too many other couples had the exact same idea of walking along the beach during the sunset, so Fifi and Furrball found themselves spending the first night in their suite. This certainly wouldn't have been such a bad thing in Fifi's mind, except the strawberry/pineapple cocktail Furrball had with dinner caused him to pass out the second they dimmed the lights. Needless to say the purple skunk was less than amused. _

A sudden draft sent chills up the skunk's spine. Instinctively reaching for her other half, Fifi opened her eyes when she grabbed onto nothing. Rolling on her back, the skunk was confused. Had this all been a dream? It seemed so real that Furrball had finally opted to share a bed with her and yet once again she was alone. Sighing, the skunk sat up, looking at the clock on the wall. 4:22. As she rolled over, wondering what to do next, her eyes came upon an open window. Jumping out of her sheet, the skunk backed up, slamming into something in the darkness, knocking it over. Yelping with surprise, Fifi rolled out of the way flipping on the light switch. There, on the floor lay her husband, rubbing his head. He smiled sheepishly at the skunk as he slowly made it to his feet.

"What're you-"

"Shh," the cat put his finger to his wife's lips, inadvertently starting an embrace. He felt guilty, feeling her heart pumping so fast. "I'm sorry," he whispered, causing Fifi to hug back.

Letting go, the feline nodded to the open window. Fifi cocked her head, thoroughly confused.

"C'mon. We haven't got much time."

Rather than asking the obvious, Fifi decided to put her full trust in her husband following him to the window. She was silent as he fitted a safety vest around her, strapping a couple of D-rings from his belt to hers.

"Just in case," he explained as the repelled twenty stories from their hotel room to the ground. Even with the street lights in the parking lot visibility was nigh impossible for the skunk. Furrball had no problem navigating her past civilization. After a time, Fifi could smell the sea and feel the sand on her toes. Still a curious, but not wanting to spoil whatever surprise her husband had in mind, she complied silently, comforted by her company. His fur felt warmer than it had only days ago, she noticed. Arriving at a neatly spread blanket lit by a smoky torch, Furrball finally turned to his lover. Fifi looked around. Even with her limited vision, she could tell this was a remote part of the beach, probably a well-kept secret that few could even stumble upon. She could hear the sea and barely make out the blanket, but that was about it. Taking a seat, Fifi looked up at her husband, his fur highlighted by the torch, making him seem to glow in the moonlight.

"The surfers won't be out for another hour or so and the winds aren't supposed to be so great today. Besides, they don't venture out this far in the first place."

Fifi kept her attention on Furrball, saying nothing. The cat swallowed hard before continuing.

"Well, I'm from the outside, so I'm most comfortable in nature. And since we're married, now, I thought we could…we should…I mean I want to. I hope you want to…you know… make..."

"Love?" Fifi finally saved the cat from himself. Even in the dark she could see that his cheeks were as red as beets. Furrball nodded. Before either one could say anything, the wind picked up for a brief moment, extinguishing the torch. Needless to say their close proximity required no light at all.

The sun greeted the newlyweds at six o'clock exactly. As he'd predicted, no surfers were around. Walking hand-in-hand along the sea line, the couple made their way back to the hotel. Their footprints sank in the sand as they strolled lazily from the beach. When the cat and skunk were out of sight, a soft wave hit the shore causing the four paw prints to disappear forever.

-The End-


End file.
